Butterfly Panic
by xDreamlessx
Summary: AH. Bella is perfectly normal straight chick-until a girl named Alice flips every switch she never knew she had.


**AN: I had abandoned this account a long time ago, but then I randomly saw the email it was attached to, and noticed a lot of PMs asking to reupload this story. Here it is, and as always, hope you like it. ;)**

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Butterfly Panic

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Chapter 1: First Sight

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He was late.

I didn't know his name and I'd never been optimistic about blind dates, but it seemed like a poor start to a potential relationship. I mean, really. If I can't trust you to show up on time for our first date, how can I expect you to complete my life and make me whole?

I sighed and sipped my coffee, wondering if I should just bail before he even arrives. Realistically there wasn't much chance this mystery date was going to be anything special, no matter how much the BFF claimed he was absolutely perfect. Jess had weird standards. Her idea of perfection for herself was a babyfaced mimbo named Mike who liked leer at me when she wasn't looking. I shudder to think of the man she thinks will be perfect for me.

And other than his alleged perfection, I knew absolutely nothing about him. Jess wouldn't even tell me his name, she'd just smirk and say I'm going to love him. The only thing she'd tell me was that he was insanely cute. Which was nice to know at least, but honestly I was more concerned with his job. Good looks are important, but a man's career will always be his most vital trait. I'm not sure if that's superficial or sensible, but there it is. I'm a born romantic, but a practical one. After all, he ain't Prince Charming if he ain't a Prince. I'm not holding out for a twenty-six year old billionaire with a BDSM fetish, but I would prefer dating a man who could afford to spoil me occasionally.

In any case, here I was in this quaint little coffeeshop where it was arranged for us to meet. Afternoon date – no shower, no fancy clothes. Just a cup of coffee. At least I wouldn't have to put up with him for too long if I didn't like him. The only reason I was here at all was because Jess was so convinced I would like him. I was very skeptical, but I couldn't deny I was curious as well. Besides, I hadn't had sex in six months and he was apparently incredibly cute. Even if he didn't prove to be my soulmate, perhaps he might serve some modest purpose anyway.

I just wish he'd hurry. I was already on my second cup, and the post-modern artwork on the wall was seriously beginning to annoy me. Especially that rainbow-colored finger painting of overlapping triangles. It reminded me of something I'd painted myself in kindergarten. Mom had stuck it on the fridge, but maybe she could've sold it to this place. They seemed to admire the work of four-year olds.

I sighed and glanced at the wall clock again. Ten minutes late, and you know what? Fuck this. I'm not even looking for a new relationship, anyway. Why did I even let Jess talk me into this? Jess never has good ideas.

I gulped the rest of my coffee and I was about to get up and go when I heard the bell above the door tingle. I looked up, wondering if this was finally going to be him, and—

 _Oh my god._

I'd read about moments like this in romance novels, but I never thought it could possibly happen to me. For one thing, I don't believe in love at first sight. For another, I'm straight.

And what I was looking at definitely wasn't male.

The door was just swinging shut behind her and slowly I sat back down. I had stopped breathing. My heart had stopped beating. All sound in the coffeeshop drained away and all I could hear was a humming in my ears and three solemn words echoing in the empty cavern of my head:

 _What the fuck?_

She was small, very short and very cute. She was dressed in jeans and a jacket, skinny jeans, black in color, and the jacket was a black leather bolero which looked absolutely adorable on her. She was young, early twenties. Her hair was short and black, pixie-ish, and so sexy she looked like she belonged on the front of a haircolor box. But it was her face that had taken my breath away. Her features were delicate and doll-like and her complexion was absolutely perfect aside from a small beauty mark on her cheek that seemed more like decoration than blemish. Her face was heart-shaped and perfectly accentuated by her short hair and long neck.

I'd never seen such a completely cute person before, and judging from the heat that was slowly smothering my face neither had my subconscious – which had heretofore been reserved for men.

She had paused just within the door to scan the coffeeshop with her eyes, as if she was looking for someone. She had her hands in her back pockets, and she seemed somewhat shy, somewhat nervous. I was sitting alone at a small table for two, and when her eyes passed over me they darted back again in a quick doubletake. Her eyes met mine and a smile appeared on her pretty lips. My heart had been still till that moment and now suddenly it began to gallop like an enraged stallion. I ripped my eyes away and I was shocked at how hard my pulse was throbbing in my neck.

I'd never felt anything like this in my life. I've never liked women. In fact, I hate women. I try to be charitable to my own sex, but from what I've seen, other women mostly appear to be petty bitches. I'd never been attracted to them in my life. And now…

But it didn't matter. I'd never seen her before and never will again. I was here to meet a _man_ , and this girl was about as opposite from a man as I could imagine. According to Jess my date for tonight was super-hot, and I sincerely hoped he would be, because it was going to take something particularly hunky to realign my orientation after this jostle. I mean, fuck. I had damn near orgasmed in my panties just by looking at her. What was so special about her, anyway? She couldn't possibly be that—

I'd gone to glance at her again and suddenly my whole world stopped.

She was coming over.

Toward me.

I don't know why being approached by a random woman in a coffeeshop should make me freak out so badly, but it did. My insides went queasy and my mouth was frozen open. I felt like I was floating. She smiled as if she recognized me, one hand still in a pocket, and she pointed at me with the other.

"Bella Swan," she said. "Right?"

Holy fuck.

Did this chick just guess my name?

"Hi," she went on, extending her hand. "I'm Alice."

She was acting like I was supposed to know who she was, but I was pretty sure I'd remember if I had a girl this painfully attractive in my life. So I gaped at the hand as if it was something I didn't understand—pretty hand—and then I lifted my dumb-struck eyes to her face.

"Who?"

She seemed taken aback. She lowered the hand and part of her smile fell away.

"Uh, sorry," she said. "I thought you were someone else. I'm supposed to be meeting someone. You look exactly like her picture. Her name's Bella."

Oh, you gotta be kidding me.

She was meeting a woman named Bella Swan and I look exactly like her picture. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe my best friend Jess is a dumb fucking bitch who set me up with a girl as some kind of sick practical joke. And then, in and even sicker twist of fate, it turned out to be a girl who's making my insides squiggle like snakes with her mere proximity.

She was fishing out her cell phone from her pocket, presumably to show me the picture. She looked at it first, chuckled once, and then turned the phone so I could see.

"See what I mean?"

Yep. It was me.

Well, that's it. I'm going to prison because I'm going to kill Jess.

She had looked at the phone again, as if to check one more time. I looked at her, at a total loss for words. How exactly do you explain to a lesbian setup that you're straight and not interested – despite the fact that her approach caused a storm of butterflies in your stomach?

I rose from the table, the chair scraping back – and I fucking stumbled.

My knees were weak. Jeez. What the fuck next?

She reached to steady me, but thankfully she only reached. She didn't actually touch me. I was wearing a loose black dress—nice but not too nice—and she smiled as she checked me out quickly. My body was very well put together. It tingled under her eyes and I was torn between melting at her feet and blushing. I blushed.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I mumbled, rummaging in my purse for money. Fucking Jess. How could she do this too me? I tossed a couple bills on the table beside the empty cup and turned to my very female date. "Listen, I don't know what Jess told you, but I'm not available. Sorry."

I said it with a smile, to hopefully soften the blow, but I hadn't thought it through. Rejection flittered over her face and her smile went a touch bitter.

"So why are you here if you're not available?"

It was a reasonable question, which naturally put me at a disadvantage. My stomach did a flip-flop and I really didn't want to hurt her, but I was standing in front of a woman who made me want to scream from how cute she was – I panicked.

"S-sorry," I stuttered. "I'm not interested. I'm not…"

But it was just too awkward. A hurt look passed over her face and I wanted to explain that I didn't mean it like that, that she was actually really cute, that my heart was in a total frenzy over her. But I'm not gay, never been gay, and I wanted to explain that as well, but I really couldn't. Foreign feelings were passing over me in a parade of hot flashes and I had to get away from her. The impulse to flee hit me like a hammer and suddenly I spun on my heel and scurried away.

The bell above the door tingled as I pulled it open and I turned back to look at her. I was dazed, flushed, breathless. She was watching me and her expression was achingly adorable, a wounded little glare. I felt bad, so bad I almost went back to her. But I couldn't. My whole body was weak and trembly and I was scared of what this all meant. I ripped my eyes away from her gorgeous face, stepped out into the street, and let the door swing closed behind me.

—

Chapter 2: The BFF

—

I drove directly home and pounded on the door of the apartment across the hall.

"Jess!" I called. "You home?"

No answer.

I huffed out a breath. Typical. She sets me up on the blind date from hell and doesn't even have the decency to be available for her own righteous murder. I couldn't very well kill her with a text, but I figured I'd send one all the same. My thumb felt clumsy and my body still felt very weird, a combination of shock and residual adrenaline, but I managed to type it and hit send.

 _where r u_

Jessica Stanley, aka 'That Bitch Across The Hall,' was my neighbor and self-professed BFF. She had about ten of them, so I'm not sure how much of a distinction it was. I only had the one BFF, but I sincerely hoped it wouldn't be forever as the acronym suggested. One of these days I did hope to find a better bestfriend than Jess – someone who didn't set me up on blind dates with lesbians, for instance.

I went into my apartment and the first thing I did was grab a bottle of water out the fridge. I'd only just taken a swig when my phone buzzed.

 _mike called we went out_

Oh, how lovely. She was enjoying a date with her boyfriend. Meanwhile I was pressing a bottle of cold water to my cheeks because I was still rather flushed from my encounter with the cutest thing I had ever seen in my life. I went to text something back, but the phone buzzed again.

 _how was your date ;P_

Well, that's it. I really am going to kill her. And while it was unwise for an assassin to tip off her victim, I decided to inform her of my plan.

 _im going to kill you_

I took another swig from the water bottle. The phone buzzed.

 _lol_

I stared at the screen, my blood beginning to boil. I put down the water bottle and used both thumbs to claw out a reply:

 _get your ass home NOW!_

—

And yet, despite the urgent tone of the text, it was well over three hours before she finally got home. While I waited, I focused on developing permanent frown-lines and convincing myself that nothing had really happened. Sure, I had unwittingly stumbled into a date with another woman, but like the straight-person I am, I had politely excused myself and got the hell out of there. I suppose I could've explained the misunderstanding a little better, but under the circumstances it really seemed far more important to flee as fast as my wobbly legs could carry me.

And that was the real pickle, wasn't it? The woman had quite literally blown my mind. She walked in, I looked up – and bam! Love at first sight.

Which was absurd, completely absurd. Love at first sight doesn't exist in real life, it's simply a cliché, a romantic mechanism used in cheap paperbacks to manipulate gullible readers into feelings of warm fuzziness. As a romance novelist myself, I was well-versed in these devices, and yet…it had happened. It really did. I looked at her and something inside me simply squealed. It didn't matter that I was straight, or that I'd never been attracted to other women. Something about her just knocked me the fuck out.

I still didn't feel right, even now, hours later. Butterflies continued to flitter in my stomach and my chest was filled with an odd anxiety that reminded me of the feeling I used to get as a kid, whenever I got in trouble at school and I was worried mom would find out. If this really was love at first sight, it wasn't quite as fluffy as novels make it out to be. Actually, it was kind of awful. Maybe it wasn't love at first sight, after all? A girl can hope. Maybe someone had slipped some LSD into my coffee. It was a more rational explanation than what had actually happened.

And what the fuck was taking Jess so long? I needed an explanation for this shit. She better get home right now, or—

I heard a shrieking giggle from out in the corridor. There was only one woman I knew who could laugh so annoyingly. The bitch was back.

I marched over to my front door and tore it open. Jess had indeed returned, and because I had already informed her that I needed to talk to her privately, she had very considerately bought her date home with her, the dashing Mike Newton. Small, blonde, babyfaced, smugly cute. He was the kind of guy you'd like to kick in the nuts just for fun. A fine match for Jessica, who was also blonde and babyfaced, although a little prettier.

When I interrupted them he was either kissing her goodnight or they were planning to have sex right there in the corridor. They seemed to be a little drunk, so you never know. Either way, I turned a metaphoric hose on them by clearing my throat in a loud and agitated manner.

Mike broke away first; he had a thing for me, and he was really too stupid to hide it. He grinned at me, tossed his weak chin in an attempt at suaveness, and said:

"Hey," he said.

"Fuck off, Newton," I said, and turned my glare to Jess. "Can we talk for a minute, Jess?"

Jess giggled, still clinging to her boyfriend—who was trying to hide his wounded expression. Fucking punk. I don't know what Jess sees in him, and even now she took a jab at me for stealing her man's attention. "Don't listen to her, baby," she said, "she's just crabby her first date with a _girl_ didn't go so well."

Obviously she didn't realize how close she was to getting killed. Mike seemed to find this tidbit about my dating activities to be interesting, and his shit-eating grin was back on his shit-eating face.

"What, you're a lesbian now?" he said. "Cool."

A hot flush passed over me at that horrid l-word, but I managed to suppress my more violent urges. I ignored him and looked at my _former_ bestfriend. "Jess? Get rid of this clown, and when he's gone; get your ass in here." I then stepped backward into my apartment and slammed shut the door.

It was half an hour before she finally showed her face. I'd left the door unlocked, and she came in with a cheerful smile and a lightness of foot that suggested she had taken a few moments to have sex before coming over. I only hoped she washed her hands. I was standing at the kitchen counter and she sighed when she saw me and launched into a sonnet for Mike.

"Mike is so awesome," she said, as if I had actually asked. "We went to that club on 24th, you know the one, that fucking—what's it called again?"

"Baleen."

"Yeah, Baleen. That place is so awesome. We got so drunk and Mike fell on the floor!" This was apparently so hysterical that she burst out giggling at the memory. I looked at her coldly as the giggles tapered off and watched as she took a stool at the kitchen counter in front of me. She grinned and leaned forward on her elbows. "So," she said. "How was your date with Alice?"

I had a cup of coffee in my hands and I set it down on the countertop with exaggerated patience. "There's just one thing I want to know," I said. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

She looked playfully disappointed. "Didn't like her, huh?"

I took a breath and considered the question. It depends on how you define 'like.' Did her smile make my boobs tingle? Yes. Do I like women in general? No. And since even cute women are technically women, I opted for denial.

"Of course I didn't," I said. "I'm not gay, Jess. That was a really shitty thing to do."

Jess didn't seem to comprehend her error. "So? You don't have to be gay to date a chick. You should've given her a shot, what's the big deal?"

"The big deal, Jess, is…"

But then I realized I couldn't tell her what the big deal was. The big deal was something I didn't want to admit to myself, let alone an immature bestfriend I don't even trust. The last thing I needed was for Jess to try and convince me I liked a girl, just because I, er…liked a girl. So I glared and groped for a different big deal.

"The big deal," I said, "is that I wasted ten bucks on coffee when I have a coffee machine right here." And I realized that was really flimsy, so I added, "And that's not even the point, anyway, the point is, _Jessica_ , that you put me in a very awkward situation and you lied to me in order to put me there."

Jess had slipped off the stool and opened the fridge. "Yeah," she said, as if she were actually listening. "Listen, you mind if I grab something to eat? I haven't eaten yet. Trying to diet. Mike said I could lose a couple pounds, but fuck it. I'm hungry."

"Well, great," I said, "I'm glad you apologized. It means a lot to me, and yes; we can still be friends."

She was rummaging in the fridge. "Cool."

"Jess! Are you drunk or just stupid? I'm pissed at you!"

The outburst at least made her turn around. She had a bowl of Lo Mien in her hands, left over takeout from last night, and she nudged the fridge closed with her hip.

"Jeez, I'm sorry, alright? I thought you'd like her."

It wasn't a very sincere apology, and I glared at her as she sat at the counter and forked up a clump of noodles. It disturbed me that she had somehow assumed I would like a girl, but even more disturbing was that she was eating the Lo Mien cold.

"Aren't you gonna heat that up?"

"Nah, it's okay."

I grabbed the bowl and stuck it in the microwave.

"If you're gonna waste my food, you could at least enjoy it."

"I like it cold."

"No one likes cold noodles."

"I do."

"Well, you're just stupid. And why the fuck would you assume I'd like her?"

"Who, Alice?"

The name caused a ripple of excitement to travel through me. It took me by surprise and made my frown even darker. I had forgotten how she introduced herself, but I remembered now. What kind of girl was this? Who's mere name evokes tingles all across my body.

The microwave beeped. I took out the bowl and slammed it in front of Jess like an angry wife. "Yeah, Alice," I said. "Why even bother setting us up?"

Jess shrugged, poking at the bowl with the fork. "I don't know," she said. "I had a hunch. I met her at the gym a couple months ago and she seemed really sweet. She actually asked me out."

"So why didn't you?"

She screwed up her face with noodles dangling from her mouth. "I'm not gay."

I exhaled through my nose. That was exactly the point and she wasn't going to realize it unless I rubbed her nose in it. So I did. "Well, neither am I, Jess," I said. "So now can you understand why I didn't appreciate what you did?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"But what?"

She shoveled up a mouthful of noodles and shrugged reluctantly. "Well, I don't know," she said. "Sometimes you seem a little suspicious, that's all. I mean, you haven't had a date since you moved in, I've never seen you with a guy, you don't talk about guys. So I thought, you know."

That was the most stupid reasoning I ever heard. I held up a hand and ticked off my points in my fingers. "First of all, I only moved in four months ago. Secondly, I'm not interested in a relationship right now—which I explained to you repeatedly when you first suggested setting me up—and thirdly? I don't talk about guys all the time because unlike someone I know I'm not a vapid blonde bimbo with no thought in my head beyond my boyfriend."

She grinned and pretended to get distracted. "I wonder what Mike's doing right now?" she wondered out loud.

"Jess," I said.

She giggled and went back to her bowl. "Look, I'm really sorry, okay? I didn't know you were gonna freak out, I really thought you might like her. And even if you didn't, I figured you could have a cup of coffee with her and laugh about it. I mean, seriously, what's the big deal? You homophobic or something?"

I was rinsing my coffee cup at the sink and I poured another one from the pot. "Gee, Jess," I said, not really sarcastic. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Oh," she said. "Well, sorry. But seriously, I just thought you guys might have some fun, that's all. Alice could use some fun. Her last girlfriend was a total whore. Cheated on her with a guy. She was a bisexual redhead – risky mixture, huh? Then she met this other girl who thought she might be bi but turned out to be straight. And before that she had a serious relationship in college, but then the girlfriend got a job offer in LA. They tried long distance, but it didn't work out. Kind of sad, really. She's had a lot of bad luck in relationships."

I was staring at Jess as she spoke in growing amazement. The coffee was hot in my hands and I had an urge to throw it in her face. "Let me get this straight," I said. "You took a woman who's down on her luck, a woman who's last few relationships were total disasters, a woman on the rebound who's probably in a vulnerable state right now, and you took this woman and proceeded to coerce her into a blind date that was doomed before it even began?"

Jess had stopped eating, as if she finally might be realizing what a meddlesome bitch she'd been. I waited for a reply, but it was slow to compute in her blonde head, so I asked her frankly:

"Are you evil?"

"Um…"

I shook my head. Jess got defensive.

"Well, how was I supposed to know you wouldn't like her?" she blurted. "It's not my fault you didn't like her."

"Oh, no, not your fault at all," I said. "You only lied to me and told me she was a guy. And you probably lied to her, too, right? What did you tell her about me?"

She went sheepish. "Well, I had to tell her you were gay," she said. "She doesn't date straight or bi chicks anymore. It's her new rule."

I became even more annoyed with Jess, and even though it wasn't my fault, I felt even worse about how I had walked out on the date like that with no explanation. If she had assumed I was gay, then the only possible excuse for my hasty retreat was that I found her ugly.

"So you lied to her," I said.

Jess finally had the grace to be guilty. She nodded and stuck the fork into the noodles. "Yeah," she said, "but only about that. I was completely honest about everything else, even generous. I gave her all your highlights; pretty, smart, fun to talk to, published author. Showed her some really cute pictures. She was actually really excited to meet you. She said you sound…perfect."

Her voice went glum at the end as the folly of her deeds was revealed to her at last. I regarded her with hard pity.

"I love you, Jess, but sometimes? You're a fucking retard."

"Oh god, now I feel terrible," she said. "Do you think she's mad at me?"

"She should be."

"Fuck, I better call her."

She was already reaching for the phone on the wall, but I waved her away from it. I was tired and irritated and I just wanted to forget all this ever happened, so I allowed myself to be a little bitchy. "Don't call from here," I snapped. "Go home and call her."

"Yeah, I better," she said, backing away toward the front door. "Shit, I'm really sorry, Bella. Are you mad at me?"

"Yes."

"And we're still friends?"

"No."

"Thanks. God, I feel like such an idiot. I just really thought you'd like her. I mean, I know you're not gay, but you gotta admit. She's really cute."

My stomach fluttered at the reminder of her cuteness, but I really didn't need to be thinking about such things so close to bedtime. So I just flapped a hand at Jess where she hovered in the doorway.

"Fuck off, Jess," I said. "And the next time you want to set me up, go to hell."

"You sure? Mike's got lots of friends."

"Seriously, Jess," I said. "Fuck off."

She giggled and ducked out, pulling the door closed behind her, and when she was gone I allowed myself a small smile. Jess was a self-centered little brat, but from some angles, I guess she was kind of okay. I'll still probably end up killing her one day, though.

I sighed and looked down at the bowl of noodles. They couldn't be reheated again, so I suppose I'll have to throw them out. Unless I eat them now. In all the confusion for the day, I realized that I hadn't had dinner, and after assessing whether or not I was depressed enough to use the same fork as my guest, I decided to get a clean one.

After all, there was really nothing to be depressed about. I mean, so what? I had a physical reaction to another woman. I'm sure there's plenty of women all around the world who go through similar things everyday. It didn't mean anything and I was never going to see her again.

The fork paused on the way up.

 _Never going to see her again._

But, um. I mean. Well, what if I did want to see her again?

The mere thought caused a cyclone of butterflies in my stomach and I forced myself to stop thinking about it. There was no point. I've never dated a woman in my life and I'm not going to start now.

—

Chapter 3: Cliché

—

It took me almost a week to get over it, but by next Friday I was feeling relatively straight again. Day by day the butterflies began to settle until all I would feel was an uneasy fluttering as I lay awake in bed at night and pictured in my head how the date would've went if I had stayed. It was purely speculation, but what if? Would she have liked me? Would we have got along? Would—

And suddenly I'd shake my head and viciously remind myself that I was STRAIGHT, in capital letters, and whether or not we would've liked each other was beside the point.

Jess had called her that night and explained the whole misunderstanding. The poor girl was very forbearing and apparently she didn't hold a grudge against either of us. According to Jess she even had the grace to laugh about it, but I was sure she was only doing that for Jess's benefit. I certainly wasn't laughing. I was looking at actresses on TV weirdly and wondering if I found them attractive. Thankfully none of them produced the same effect on me as the girl named Alice. It seemed that had truly been a once in a lifetime thing. Shame I had to waste it on a woman.

But oh well. Love and relationships weren't high on my list of priorities right now. No real reason. Just not interested. That didn't mean I wasn't interested in men, however, as Jess seemed to assume. Far from it. I'd simply done all my meaningless dating in college, and I did date a lot. I'd slept with enough men back then to be considered slightly sluttish by some standards. But I was twenty-eight years old now, a full grown woman, and drunk hookups had lost much of their appeal. Jess was still young enough to enjoy them—an immature twenty-three—and she had often tried to drag me with her to whatever clubs she liked to frequent. But I rarely went, and when I did, I wasn't interested in meeting anyone. I'd like to be able to say I was focusing on my career, but the only career I had was my novels, and that still seemed much like a hobby. I was simply at a point in my life where I wasn't really attracted to anyone.

And that was the weird part. I'd been lulled into the date with promises of perfection, and while I certainly didn't expect perfection, I do admit I'd been slightly hopeful. I thought it might be nice to finally feel that spark again, that tingle. Ironically, I'd gotten a little more than a mere jolt. My expectations had been as low as they could've possibly been, and yet in terms of sheer sledgehammer attraction, those expectations had been shattered, crushed, and pulverized into a fine powder.

If destiny was real, it was obviously an evil bitch. If fate had intended me to fall in love at first sight, couldn't it have at least waited till I was looking at a guy?

In any case, there was no point even thinking about it. I'm not homophobic—well, not compared to some people—but there'll always be a natural human reluctance to completely rearrange one's views on sex and relationships. For almost three decades I'd believed that girls date boys and lesbians are kind of icky. And I seriously doubt that was going to change.

So I decided to push it all out of my mind and focus on work. I was under contract to Masen Publishing for the production of two novels per year, which meant I had obligations, which meant I couldn't afford to sit around my apartment and pontificate on the possibility of whether or not some girl I didn't even know would've liked me if I actually had the balls to date her. I had finished a new story recently and the printed manuscript had been sitting in my desk drawer for just over two months, so that I could edit it with fresh eyes. I liked my work to be as polished as possible before I submitted it to my professional editor—who also happened to be my personal friend—Angela Webber.

And since we were such great friends, I decided to deliver the manuscript personally and take her out to lunch. So I saved the latest rewrite to a datastick and drove over to the office building where she worked. It was a cloudy day, as it often was in Seattle, and as I drove I wondered if maybe I should mention the blind date to Angela over lunch. Angela was embarrassingly man-crazy so I could probably count on her to agree with me that my brief fit of lesbian hysteria was a meaningless fluke.

Angela was a junior editor, which was somewhat of a lofty position for someone so young and flighty, and her office had a nice view out over Elliot Bay. I hadn't seen her in almost two weeks and when I came in she actually got up and air-kissed me on both cheeks. I didn't shove her away, but honestly, I could've done without the feminine intimacy.

"So," she said, as she stuck the flashdrive in the computer and started clicking, "what kind of adventures does our heroine get up to this time?"

I perched on the edge of the desk and shrugged. "Same old shit," I said. "Sex, stupidness. More stupidness." After all, it was a vampire story; would else would you expect? The so-called heroine was a useless piece of vampire bait and the vampire was a hunky highschool boy who seemed to have no apparent purpose in life other than to seduce the POV.

Angela smiled and shook her head. "I'll never understand how you can write this stuff with such little respect for it," she said. "I love your characters, I think they're very relatable."

"You don't have to respect something in order to enjoy it," I said. "Like you and your husband."

It was a sharp jab, and I was very proud of it. Angela pointed at me and narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Watch it, Swan," she said. "Or maybe I'll let a few errors slip past my vigilant edit."

I smirked and remained silent. I was pretty sure most of my readers were too stupid to notice an error or too, but I liked Angela, so I allowed her the victory.

"Listen," I said, "are you free for lunch? There's something I need to talk to you about."

Already she was standing and reaching for her purse. "Oooh, did you meet someone?"

"No," I blurted before I could help myself. "Why would you automatically assume that? Why is it any time a woman needs to talk it's always about a man? Aren't I allowed to have a life outside of relationships?"

It took her by surprise and she put her purse down again. She folded her arms and smiled at me. "Okay, chill," she said. "So what is it then?"

"Well," I said. "I met someone."

Angela rolled her eyes. She went to reach for her purse again but there was a quiet knock on the door and a man popped his head in.

A very good looking man, with artfully mussed bronze-colored hair, aquiline features, and sexy eyes. He had his mouth open to speak, but he closed it again when he saw me sitting there on the desk. He gave me a once over and I do believe I felt a flicker of something.

He turned to Angela. "Ms Webber, do you have that proofread I've been waiting on?" he asked. "I'd like to get it out before the end of the day."

Angela had straightened up at the apparition of this Calvin Klein model, and she nodded quickly. "I'll have it on your desk first thing after lunch, sir."

She sounded like a marine, although she didn't actually salute. He gave her an odd look and I almost cringed on her behalf. It had been a while since I worked in an office, but I was sure words like 'sir' were generally against protocol, almost harassment. He let it slide, however—a gentleman—and then he looked at me once more and made his exit, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I turned a mocking smirk on Angela. "Sir?"

"Well, at least I didn't call him Master," she said. "I gotta cut back on the domination fantasies."

"Nice material," I said, looking at the door, as if to remember him framed in it. I could feel a residual stirring in my stomach and I was quite happy about that. It was nothing at all compared to the emotional shredding I'd experienced at the hands of a tiny girl named Alice, but it was nice to know the event hadn't caused any permanent damage.

Angela heaved a sigh, gathering up her purse. "He's a dream," she said. "And so nice. He was the one who promoted me to junior editor after that other bitch in charge got the sack. He even danced with me at the holiday party. Ben was so jealous."

My brow furrowed slightly. He had promoted Angela? I thought he was just some colleague.

"Who is he?" I asked.

"Edward Masen," she said, "managing editor. My boss, and yours, too, technically."

Wait a second.

Masen?

As in Masen of Masen Publishing, a subsidiary of Masen Enterprises, the global conglomerate worth billions of dollars?

…Jesus.

You read about men like him in contemporary romance novels—I'd written a few of them myself—but you never believe they actually exist in real life. Billionaires tend to be old, bald, and overweight. They're seldom young, attractive, charming, and hold positions of authority in a predominantly female workplace.

A quirky grin crossed my face. "Seriously?"

"Oh yeah," Angela said, with emphasis. "So where we going for lunch?"

I chuckled to myself, ignoring the question for a second. Suddenly I was flattered he had looked at me. I indulged the feeling for a moment. Bella Swan, turning the heads of billionaires. Not once, but twice. I'm such a vixen. Did he like me, or was he just wondering who I was? Oh well, it's not like it mattered. I don't even work here, really, and I was never going to see him—

There was another quick knock on the door and the same man poked his head in.

—again.

This time he actually came into the office, a strange smile on his face as if he had forgotten something and was slightly embarrassed about it. "I'm sorry to bother you again, Ms Webber," he said, and then shockingly turned to me. "But I don't believe we've met?"

I froze, still perched on the edge of the desk. The billionaire was talking to me. He was dressed in a casual charcoal-colored suit, and a silk shirt with no tie and the top two buttons undone. He had a lean frame, not too tall, not too bulky. I looked at Angela for assistance and Angela quickly snapped out of her shock.

"Oh, this is Bella," she said. "Also known as Ebony Swan, one of our star novelists."

He nodded at this news, took his hand out of his pocket, and offered it for a hand shake. "Bella," he repeated. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you."

I slid off the desk and shook his hand. My knees didn't give way and the touch produced little effect on me aside from the basic awkwardness of human-contact. "You too," I said, although I wished the pleasure was a little greater.

"Actually, I was just on my way out to lunch," he said. "I was wondering if you'd like to join me, if you don't have any other plans?"

It took me a second to process that. Apparently my face was so fascinating he not only felt compelled to glance twice and backtrack solely to introduce himself, but also to invite me to lunch. Honestly, I was reluctant. It was all fun and games to blush at being noticed, but lunch seemed like a lot of work, and in the grand scheme of things it was probably a total waste of time. I wasn't in this guy's league, and besides, I did have plans.

"Actually, me and Angie already—"

"Oh, no, no, no," Angela cut in, hustling into her desk chair and shuffling it forward. "I have a ton of work to do, so you might as well just go ahead. I gotta finish up that proofread, right boss?"

She said it with a good-natured enthusiasm, but again, a word like 'boss' wasn't really the encouraged way to address one's superior in an office. He gave her a quick smile and turned the smile onto me.

"There's a terrific little café on Elliot Bay only five minutes from here, with a great view over the water," he said. "Interested?"

Honestly, no, not so much. I looked at Angela and she gave me a flare of her eyes as if to say omigawd you lucky bitch. Obviously I would get no help from her. Why are all my friends so fixated on setting me up? Is really that odd for a woman to enjoy being single? In any case, Angela's taste was far better than Jess's, and this time I did have the advantage of confirming that he was actually a man. So I shrugged and allowed myself to feel just a little excitement.

"Uh, sure," I said. "Why not?"

He smiled, a boyish smile that was very cute and did bolster my excitement just a little. "Great," he said. "It's called Azul. Do you need a ride?"

"Nah, I got my car, I'll find it."

He nodded, still smiling, and took his departure, leaving two mildly stunned women alone in an office. Neither of us seemed to know what to say. I had just been asked out by a billionaire. It's not something you expect to happen to you or anyone you know. I turned to Angela, feeling slightly betrayed at how selflessly she had abandoned our plans, and said:

"You know, I did need to talk."

She had forgotten, but she looked abashed as she remembered. "Oh yeah, you said you met someone," she said. "Is it serious?"

I shouldn't have mentioned it. A cloud of butterflies fluttered up from my stomach and I remembered that yes, it was serious. Even the memory was more powerful than anything induced by the romantic-male cliché who'd just asked me out. But I didn't want to admit that, and suddenly I realized that maybe a date with a man would be an even better remedy than a pep talk from Angela. So I suppressed everything I was feeling and shook my head.

"No," I said. "It was nothing."

—

Chapter 4: Date

—

It was my first date in over six months—my first _real_ date—and even though it was just lunch, I wanted to make a good impression. So I ducked into the bathroom and quickly touched up my makeup and hair. I was still somewhat surprised that the guy had even noticed me, although I suppose I really was kind of beautiful. My hair was long and chocolaty with a natural waviness, and my skin was my best feature – vibrantly pale and perfectly clear. I was obviously striking enough for a billionaire. I wonder if that Alice-chick had been impressed too?

But it was best not to worry about that, and soon I was in my car and on my way to this apparently terrific café called Azul. The GPS led me to it in just under five minutes, and I had a bad feeling as soon as I rounded the corner. It looked expensive, even from a distance.

 _Very_ expensive.

I was quite proud of my little Volkswagen Beetle, but I will admit that it didn't compare very well to the row of Ferrari's and Rolls Royce's in the parking lot. Even the parking attendant gave me an odd look as I pulled up in front. He didn't actually decline to park my humble vehicle, but it was obvious his heart wasn't in it. I suppose my Wal-Mart bought t-shirt and jeans were an unmistakable clue that the service wouldn't result in the kind of tip he was used to. I wasn't sure if I even had enough cash for lunch at place like this, and I certainly didn't keep bearer bonds or precious gems in my purse.

The inside of the restaurant was cool and quiet and filled me with a foreboding sense of inferiority. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I felt the head waiter could sense that my net worth was less than twenty million. I mentioned the name Masen to him, and he led me out onto the terrace where my date was waiting at a table with a view over the bay, just like he'd described. He greeted me with a smile and rose slightly as I sat down, apparently quite determined to be a gentleman. The waiter handed us menus. I looked at the price column and wondered if I should excuse myself to go the bathroom, climb out the window, and flee as fast as I could from these unholy prices. I liked a nice lunch as much as any girl, but I wasn't prepared to mortgage my house to pay for it.

My date, the illustrious Mr Edward Masen, had already ordered a bottle a mineral water, and he poured me some as he broke the ice by suggesting various dishes that were good here. I'm sure it was all good, considering the prices, but I couldn't find the fine print on the menu that included a complimentary BMW. But it's not everyday you eat at such a nice place, so I decided I might as well try and enjoy it. I ordered a cabonara and prayed to god the date wouldn't make it to dessert.

"So," he said. "What kind of novels do you write?"

"Vampire romance," I said. I felt awkward admitting it. As if I just admitted I'm an idiot. I decided I ought to elaborate just a little, so I waved my fork limply. "I have a series I'm working on."

"Must be fun, doing what you love."

"Yeah, I guess," I said, but I hated talking about myself. I hated talking about other people, too, but they generally expected it. "What about you?" I asked. "How does a guy so young become managing editor of a major publishing house?"

He smiled. "Nepotism," he said, and it took me a second to remember that nepotism wasn't some strange disease, it was the practice of being overly-promoted due to the influence of family or friends. "My father owns the parent company," he explained. "This is basically a training assignment before I move on to something else. The publishing house has been losing money for a while now, and it's up to me to turn it around."

Ah, so it was his dad who was the real billionaire. I guess that made him a regular trustfund brat. Still; I was impressed. Rich is rich, and adding good looks and a nice personality on top was simply fantasy. In a novel he'd be cold and insolent with a tragic backstory that only the warm-hearted heroine can heal, but no one wants to deal with that garbage in real life.

"But it suits me well," he went on. "I've always loved books, and publishing is an interesting business."

"Angela thinks so."

"You've been friends with her for a long time?"

My friendship with Angela was one of the few things in my life I really valued and I smiled as I spoke. "Since college," I said. "She's a great editor, all her clients love her. She really knows how to bring out a manuscript's full potential. I never would've got anywhere without her. She practically co-wrote half my work."

I laughed as I said this, but then I stopped. My recent same-sex scare had made me suspicious of how I felt about other women, and I wondered if it was strange that I had started babbling about Angela without realizing it. Did I like her? Was I secretly in love with her? If so, it was a pretty good secret – I hadn't even known myself.

He nodded as if he expected me to go on, but I could feel myself getting shy. Here I was having lunch with the most objectively desirable man I'd ever stumbled across, and I was wondering if I might have the subconscious hots for my married bestfriend. That Alice-chick had really messed me up.

The silence became slightly awkward, and he covered it up by pouring me another glass of water. "So tell me something else," he said. "How does a woman as beautiful as you not have a boyfriend?"

He meant it to be charming, I suppose, but I didn't know what annoyed me more; the fact that he had refilled my glass without asking, or the fact that he was implying all attractive women must be attached. Either way, I might've been a little obnoxious as I answered. "Er, because I don't feel the need to ornament myself with a boyfriend like an accessory when there's no one I'm interested in? Is that a valid reason? Or would it be more plausible that I have some gross defect that drives men away?"

The minor outburst made him smile in an almost guilty but mostly amused kind of way. The smile should've irritated me even more, but it actually softened me up a little. It was a really cute smile, and I always did like a man who enjoys sarcastic women.

"Sorry," I said. "I can get a little feminist at times."

"It's cute," he said, and since he was only trying to flirt, I refrained from ripping off his handsome head. "For the record, I was only trying to pay a compliment."

"Thanks."

"So how come?"

"How come what?"

"No boyfriend?"

I suppose it was a somewhat natural question to ask on a preliminary date, so this time I deigned to answer it. "No real reason," I said. "Just not interested. What about you?"

"I was engaged recently, but it didn't work out."

Oooh. Rebound billionaire. "What happened?"

The topic might've been a little sensitive for him. He looked out over the water briefly, as if to delay for just a second while he formulated a noncommittal reply, and then turned back to me. "Well," he said. "I suppose the lady in question had a better offer."

"Better than you?" I asked bluntly. After all, why be shy? The guy's a dream. Anybody can see that.

He chuckled at my candidness. "The heart wants what the heart wants," he said. "That's what she told me, anyway."

I nodded, but in all honesty I hated that excuse, the notion that people should be ruled by their feelings. I'd never believed in it personally. If I did what my heart wanted—

 _I'd be dating a chick right now._

The thought washed over me like a cold wind, and I pushed it away quickly. But that was exactly what I was talking about. Sometimes feelings betray you. Ever since my parents got divorced I had always felt that the world would be so much better if people would just make up their minds and stick with it. Especially with marriage and relationships. Who cares if you're unhappy for the rest of your life? At least the national statistics would improve and your daughter would be happy.

But his ex-fiancé seemed to be a sensitive subject for him, and in searching for a subject change, he gestured at my plate with his fork, and asked, "How's the cabonara?"

I looked down at the plate of pasta as if it was a trouble to me. It was actually really good, but my enjoyment of it was slightly sullied by the fact that I might have to sell a kidney to pay for it.

"Expensive," I said.

"Don't worry, I'll pick up the check."

He said it with a good-natured chauvinism, possibly to rile me up, and my mood was light enough to play along. "I can buy my own lunch, thank you," I said. "Didn't you hear me when I said I was a feminist?"

"Sorry," he said. "I can be a little sexist at times."

"Charming."

"Well, they do say opposites attract. What do you think?"

"I think 'they' are full of shit."

A lady oughtn't use profanity at the dinner table, but I had to admit I didn't give a fuck. He didn't seem to give a particular swear word either. He smiled at me, a light breeze stirring his hair.

"Nevertheless," he said, "I'd love to see you again sometime. Are you available over the weekend?"

I looked at him, fork paused. Lunch wasn't even over and he was already fishing for a second date?

It hadn't even occurred to me that he would want to. It took me by surprise, but when a man asks if he can see you again, it's not very graceful to sit there thinking about it. To be honest, I could take him or leave him, but considering the recent disorientation I'd experienced, I figured it was probably best to take him.

Besides, he really was cute, and I wasn't entirely senseless to that. There was a dull stirring in my chest, and I wasn't sure if it was attraction or indigestion from thinking about the bill, but it was something. Either way, he was easily the best guy I'd met in a long time. I felt no impulse to rip off his clothes and tackle him to the ground, but a second date probably wouldn't be painful.

"Sure," I said. Then an idea hit me. "Actually, I could use a date on the weekend. My neighbor's having a Halloween party and if I don't bring someone she might try to set me up again. I'm still reeling from her last attempt."

"Didn't like him?"

Butterflies swirled up in my stomach and I lost most of my appetite. But I swallowed and gave a small shrug, avoiding his face. "Well," I said. "Let's just say we were fundamentally incompatible."

"Fair enough," he said. "Is it a costume party?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to dress up."

"No, it sounds like fun."

"Seriously?"

"Sure. Any ideas for a costume?"

I looked him over with a studied dryness. Young, wealthy, boyishly handsome. He was possibly even younger than me by a year or two. I'd never been the kind of woman who liked to tell her boyfriend what to wear, but in this case I could actually feel the impulse. He had potential for a few different themes, but the one that first occurred to me was pretty obvious.

"How bout a prince?"

The suggestion seemed to amuse him, but he nodded. We tossed around a few more ideas as we ate, smiling and joking, and I was almost completely loosened up by the time he had to go back to work.

We confirmed our plans and agreed to meet at my place, seven o'clock. I shelled out half the contents of my purse to pay for my half of lunch, but I didn't have to pawn my earrings or prostitute myself. He paid for his half with an American Express Centurion Card, and the sight of that tiny piece of black plastic almost made me moist. It was the most prestigious credit card in the whole world, and you'll have to pardon me if I liked him a little more after witnessing the ease with which he dealt it to the waiter.

All in all, it was the most successful date I'd had in a long time. I didn't whistle in the car on the way home, but I was more or less a happy girl. It was certainly better than my last attempt at a date, but I didn't want to think about that. Edward Masen was exactly what I needed. From a technical point of view, he was the most perfect man I'd ever met in my life, and from an emotional point of view, he was at least passable. Bottom line, I had enjoyed spending time with him, which wasn't something I could say about most other people. Yes. He was great.

Soon I was nodding to myself behind the wheel as I coasted under the cloudy sky toward home, and I had almost convinced myself. But there were still butterflies in my stomach and by time I got back to my apartment I was wondering if Jess's friend Alice was going to be at the Halloween party.

—

Chapter 5:

—

I pursed my lips at the bathroom mirror and applied the final touches of black lipstick. I was in full costume, and naturally I was dressed as a gothic vampire. A sexy seductress, clad in a burgundy gown with hooped skirts and black satin bows, part Victorian maiden, part whore of darkness. Old school. Lace sleeves off the shoulder, my whole upper torso bare and painted pale white. There was silicone padding in my bust and the soft swell of my already large breasts created a cleavage that was truly epic. I didn't dress up often, but when I did, I liked to look my best.

"I feel like an idiot," Edward called from the other room.

He had arrived about five minutes ago and he was waiting in my bedroom while I did my makeup, probably preening nervously in front of the full-length mirror, wracked with second thoughts about his costume. Rightfully so. The man looked like a mental patient.

"It's Halloween," I said, emerging into the bedroom. "We all look like idiots."

He was dressed as a prince, as I had suggested, but his costume might've been a little too fourteenth century for his taste. He wore a flamboyant red and yellow doublet, solid green tights with a seem up the back, and a fake gold crown on his anxious brow. He looked me over and I had to forgive him for glancing at my chest before my face.

"You don't," he said. "You look amazing."

Yes. I was glorious, frankly. I could feel my fake fangs poking my bottom lip as I smiled, and even though they cost almost forty dollars, I felt they completed the ensemble very nicely.

"Come on," I said, "we might as well go over early."

We crossed the corridor and knocked on Jess's door. No one answered. Edward leaned past me and tapped again with the head of the kingly scepter he carried. A few seconds later Jess tore open the door, flushed, out of breath, mid-giggle.

She either hadn't put on her costume yet or she was dressed as a slightly slobbish young woman who had recently been felt up. She was pulling down her t-shirt and the button of her jeans was undone. I was appalled to have noticed.

"Jeez, you're not even dressed?" I said. "We aren't even that early."

"Sorry," she gasp-giggled, holding the door open for us. "Mike came over and I got distracted."

Mike was standing in the doorframe of Jess's bedroom, leaning against the jamb like a smug sack of shit. His costume didn't favor his thin build and blond hair. He was dressed as a biker, all in black leather. Black leather jacket, black leather cap, black leather boots, chains dangling across the leg of his black leather trousers. He looked like a fag.

Jess closed the door and checked out Edward's legs in their green stockings. "So," she said, "is this the guy you couldn't stop talking about? The ultra-hot billionaire who's completely crazy about you?"

Already I regretted coming to this stupid party. I'd barely mentioned him at all and I only bragged about his money a little bit. "That's not how I described him," I said, "but yes, this is Edward. Edward, this is Jess and Mike."

Jess dipped a charming curtsy. "Greetings, your highness," she said, giggling at her own cleverness.

"Hi," Edward said, and turned to Mike. The mini moron was still leaning in the doorframe in his leather like one of the village people. He nodded at Edward, thumb hooked in his belt.

"S'up, bro," he said.

The greeting was obviously beneath my date's dignity, but he deigned to return it. He nodded in his princely attire and dryly replied: "S'up."

"Okay, I'm gonna get changed," Jess said. "You guys have something to drink, I'll be right back. There's beer and soda in the fridge, I haven't set up yet. I'll only be a second."

Mike pawed at her waist playfully. "I'll give you a hand," he growled, making Jess giggle. She swatted at his hands, in a rather limp attempt at propriety, and then something seemed to occur to her.

"Oh hey," she said to me, before disappearing into the bedroom. "Guess who's gonna be at the party?"

Butterflies stirred in my stomach. There was going to be dozens of people here, but there was only one I'd been thinking and wondering about all week.

"Who?" I asked.

"Alice."

The butterflies fluttered, but I stamped them down. It didn't matter if the woman named Alice was going to be here. What happened two weeks ago was a fluke and nothing else.

"Who's Alice?" Edward asked. It was only curiosity in his voice, and he probably only asked because I had gone silent and he was uncomfortable watching Mike grope Jessica right in front of us.

"Oh, Bella had a date with her a couple weeks ago," Jess explained, "but they didn't really hit it off."

Great.

Now my date thinks I'm into chicks.

Edward glanced at me, and I had to remind myself that the apartment was only on the third floor; jumping out the window would solve nothing.

"Come on, babe," Mike urged into Jess's ear, "let's get those clothes off."

Jess squealed as some sensitive area of her anatomy was pinched and together they disappeared into her bedroom, slamming shut the door behind them.

Edward was still looking at me, possibly hoping for an enlargement on my lesbian adventures. Such things excite men, I understand. I hated to disappoint him, but I didn't want to talk about it. My stomach was alive with butterflies and I was still trying to get over the knowledge that a certain pixie was going to be in attendance tonight. So I sighed and deflected the subject.

"Want a beer?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks.

I immediately regretted asking. I was only trying to be polite, but the subtext of being a woman and demurely bringing a man a beer wasn't lost on me. Next I'll be offering to make him a sandwich. Still, he was a visitor, and Jess's apartment was as familiar to me as my own. I felt I had some slight responsibility to make a guest comfortable.

It was a very small apartment, like mine, and the kitchen area was just off the living room. Jess hadn't done much decorating for Halloween. There was some black and red crepe paper strung across the walls and some black balloons. A fake pumpkin on the kitchen counter with a fake candle inside it. A plastic skeleton hanging from a kitchen cabinet. Stickers on the fridge of a witch, a werewolf.

Inside the fridge there were multiple six packs, all bottles, no cans. Jess felt bottles were more feminine. I fetched two out and handed one across the counter to Edward. He had sat on one of the stools, causing his colorful doublet to ride up and expose even more of his green stockings. He took a swig and crossed his legs.

"So," he said. "You date girls?"

I knew it was coming. But his expression was only casual interest, and since he didn't appear to be a creep or a homophobe, I decided not to break a bottle over his head. "No," I said. "Jess was just joking. She's an idiot like that."

"Ah," he said.

"Disappointed?"

He gave me a crooked smile and gestured loosely with the beer bottle. "Well, I'm an open minded kind of guy, so…"

"I'll bet," I said, covering my own smirk with a sip.

There was a knock on the apartment door. Butterflies stirred again in my stomach, but I ignored them and glanced at Jess's bedroom. I had no idea what she was doing in there, but she obviously wasn't intending to answer the door. The soft knock came again.

"Fucking Jess," I said, setting down my bottle on the counter. "I better get the door."

I went to answer it, but I wished Jess would hurry. I didn't sign up to be a hostess. I hate dealing with people. The only reason I even came to the party was to bring a guy and demonstrate how straight I am. Now here I am, fetching beers and answering the door. I might as well—

I had just opened the door.

And oh my god.

It was the girl named Alice. She was standing in the corridor and she looked up with a smile as the door swung open. It was her eyes. They were so huge, so pretty, so sparkly. They looked at me and it felt like getting smacked in the skull with a pillow by Mike Tyson. I had been preparing myself for days against this possible encounter, but nothing in my wildest dreams could've prepared me for this.

She was dressed as a fairy.

A completely fucking cute fairy.

It seemed to be a rainbow theme. She was wearing a wig, but I had recognized her instantly. The wig was candy pink which flared to white at the tips, and it was long and wavy and tumbled about her bare shoulders. Her tutu was skyblue and the bodice laced up the front with a rainbow ribbon. The skirts were composed of layers of colorful lace, yellow, orange, purple, and underneath she wore a hot pink miniskirt. Just below the skirt began a pair of rainbow striped thigh-highs that descended all the way down to a pair of pretty pink pumps. Completing the ensemble was a set of fairy wings, neon colored and butterfly in style.

It wasn't a scary costume, but it frightened me to my core. Over the last fortnight I had managed to convince myself that our last meeting wasn't as bad as I thought, but seeing her now, dressed like this…I swooned.

I had never swooned in my life, and frankly I'd never thought it was physiologically possible, at least not in a romantic context. But I swooned now, reaching for the door jamb to steady my suddenly wobbly body as the dizziness overpowered my head. She lifted her hands quickly, as if afraid I might be lurching to attack her, and giggled.

"Oh, um, hi," she said. "It's you."

She remembered me.

My face flamed and I struggled mightily to regain myself. She was smiling at me, and she was wearing purple lipstick, rosepink blush, and indigo eyeshadow. Sparkly pixie dust glazed her cheeks. I swallowed a lump in my throat bigger than a jack-o-lantern, and finally managed to speak.

"Hi," I said. Only one word, but better than drooling silence.

I'm not sure if she noticed my weirdness, but she took a moment to notice my costume, her eyes roaming the rich maroon velvet and my pale skin. She looked at my cleavage as if she couldn't help herself and my breasts felt very happy to be noticed. The fabric of the gown was very thick, so hopefully she wouldn't see how her glance made my nipples hard. She was about to speak when someone put their arm around her shoulder.

She hadn't come to the party alone.

Her friend or girlfriend was a tall woman, much taller than the fairy-girl, and African American, with long dark hair and beautiful mocha-colored skin. She was dressed as a cougar, and her costume was somewhat breath taking as well, albeit it in a different way. It consisted mostly of a leopard-print spandex catsuit, complete with a tail, and a headband with cat ears. She also wore black patent boots and a black leather collar with studs on it. The most striking thing about the skin-tight costume was that her body was amazing.

"Hey," she said.

My blood bubbled with inexplicable jealousy. For one thing, she was possibly hotter than me. For another, her arm was around the shoulders of the cutest girl in existence, and even though I'm not a lesbian, will never be a lesbian, I couldn't deny that every fiber of my being seemed to scream with envy.

"So, um, are we too early?" Alice said. "I thought we could give Jess a hand setting up, but I guess we could go circle the block if she's not…"

I snapped out of my stupor and backed into the apartment. "No, no, no, come in, come in," I said, regaining the capacity for civilized behavior. "Jess is getting changed. She's, um…getting changed."

I was so flustered that I wasn't sure if I had repeated myself, but I was pretty sure I had. I offered nothing else in the way of greeting and the three of us stood there for a moment in our outlandish costumes, awkwardly early to a party that hadn't started yet. Edward was still sitting at the kitchen counter, but he had swiveled on the stool to see who had arrived. The two women were glancing at him and finally I noticed.

"Oh!" I said. "This is Edward. He's my, uh, boyfriend."

It was an impulse to assert myself as straight, and hopefully it didn't seem odd to anyone but Edward. After all, this was our first real date; calling him my boyfriend might've been a little possessive.

Alice smiled at him and waved cutely across the living room. She wasn't even waving at me and I almost fainted. "Hi!" she chirped. "I'm Alice, this is Leah."

He lifted a hand to say hi and let it fall to his lap. His red and yellow doublet had rode up a little more and his green tights left little to the imagination between his legs, although I'm not sure either of the two women were particularly interested. I felt embarrassed for him, but it would've been even more awkward to mention his crotch was showing.

Alice glanced away and her eyes landed on me. Instantly they lit up and she broke the ice with a flurry of compliments. "Wow," she gushed, "that is a beautiful costume. It looks amazing on you."

I'd never been comfortable with flattery, even when it didn't come from a gorgeous lesbian fairy. But I rallied myself and made an effort to return it. "Thanks," I said. "You, you, you, you…"

I stopped myself. I took a breath.

"You too," I said.

They exchanged glances. Edward sipped his beer. If I had a pistol I might've put it in my mouth and shot myself. But before I could do anything drastic to escape my misery of awkwardness, Jess's bedroom door swung open and the hostess herself came sailing out in a sexy bunny outfit, complete with floppy ears, bow tie, and fishnets.

"Okay!" she announced. "You guys ready to party?"

—

Chapter 6: Halloween II

—

Within the hour most of the guests had arrived and soon the party was in full swing. I had always been something of a wallflower, but on this occasion I was more like wallpaper, silently skirting the edge of the party, nursing a cup of bright red punch, never straying far from the side of my date. Jess's apartment was clogged with all kinds of Halloween costumes, yet there was only one that was truly scary; a small rainbow colored fairy.

Just being in the same room as her proved to be a strain on my heterosexuality. I was tense, nervous, uneasy. My eyes kept drifting in her direction and weird things would occur inside me as soon as they landed on her. Cold flushes, heart palpitations, tightness in my throat. And the butterflies, swirling and fluttering in blind panic every time my gaze glanced off her colorful costume.

Clustered in Jess's living room was a variety of fantasy and Halloween archetypes. There was a zombie, a ghost, a smattering of vampires, none quite as well done as mine, of course. I'd splurged a little on my costume for some unknown reason, making sure to be the sexiest vampire in the house, even special ordering fangs that came complete with a dribble of blood that hung from the corner of my mouth. Perhaps the knowledge that a girl named Alice would be here had done something to influence my desire to dress up, but if that was true, I'd never consciously admit it.

Most costumes didn't even attempt at horror. Among the males there were plenty of comic book characters, a Joker, a Bane, a Flash, a Thor. No Iron Man, but I suppose not many had the funds and the genius to construct such an outfit, especially if you wanted it to be able to fly. Among the females there was more skin showing but not much more creativity. Jess was joined by a second bunny, and there were other animals too, mostly an assortment of felines. There was also a sexy nurse, a brunette with her blouse unzipped far enough to display an appalling amount of cleavage, and I don't only say that because I was jealous. Another woman was dressed as a sinister sister, a nun in fishnets and a very short shift. There was a cheerleader, a devil grrrl, a dark angel with black wings and very tall heels.

I found it all very interesting. Why is it when women have an opportunity to dress up as something they're not, their first choice is always some kind of slut?

In any case, everyone appeared to be having a good time. Jess had arranged a special Halloween playlist complete with classics like Thriller and Monster Mash, and those who weren't busy attempting to dance were otherwise engaged doing as many jello shots as possible before they were all gone. I'd only had the one beer and for the rest of the night I stuck to the non-alcoholic fruit punch. I didn't need to compound my condition with chemicals. I was approaching inebriation by simply being within eyesight of a particular pixie. It was bad enough that I couldn't stop glancing at her, but even worse?

She couldn't stop glancing at me, either.

I had no idea why, but she did. I knew why I kept glancing at her. For some strange reason, I was greatly attracted to the chick. It didn't make sense, but there it was. She made my heart race like no one had ever made my heart race, and naturally I was curious as to why this was. So I kept glancing at her, as if trying to figure out what was so special about the girl. The only conclusion I could come to was that she was fucking adorable. Especially in her costume. The pink wig, the blue tutu, the rainbow stockings. All this combined with her pretty face and perky body created a truly impressive countenance of cuteness; the girl was incredible. So I kept glancing, glancing, glancing.

But, um. Why did she keep glancing at me?

The basic answer was because she was gay and she thought I was hot. But there were plenty of other hot chicks in the room and she didn't seem to be overly fascinated with any of them. As far as I could tell, it was only me who repeatedly drew her attention. Almost every time I looked at her, our eyes would meet and my heart would slam in my chest. Did hers slam the same way? Did she like me? These chance glances would make her smile, but I didn't dare smile back. I'd look away and sidle closer to Edward. He was my date, after all, and didn't she bring a date too?

I wasn't sure if they were together. They were obviously at least friends, but the cougar woman—Leah—seemed to enjoy roaming, prowling the party in her catsuit, pausing to chat with almost anyone, male or female. She had a flirty demeanor and she exuded a womanly confidence. But she never strayed too far from her fairy companion and she always seemed to circle back, sometimes even bringing her a drink. I felt surges of jealousy whenever I'd see the pixie smile up at the taller woman, but I really didn't think they were a couple.

Not that it mattered, of course. I mean, I wasn't interested. Not like that. I could accept the fact that I was attracted to another woman; nothing simpler. But that didn't mean I was willing to act on that attraction. Not if I could avoid it, at least.

And so far so good. The party had passed it's peak and soon I would be allowed to politely make my excuses and go home. I didn't know what I was going to do with Edward, however. He had been a perfect prince the whole night, affable, gallant, charming. He fetched me drinks, he made interesting conversation. But it just didn't really feel like a date. My hormones were tending in a different direction, and try as I might, I just really couldn't bend them toward him.

It wasn't fair. Because I really did like him. He was a seriously nice guy, and very handsome and very rich. And instead of maintaining any kind of conversation with him, I was waiting for the crowd to part so I could catch another glimpse of the pixie-girl's legs. It was her stockings. They looked so soft and snug, and of course stripes are always eye-catching, and rainbow stripes—well. Who could blame me for being hypnotized? Well, I suppose I could blame myself. I was on a date, dammit. I shouldn't be checking out other people. In fact, I shouldn't be checking out chicks at all – no matter how gosh-darn pretty they were.

So I tried to force the bulk of my attention on my date, but even this failed me in the end. We had somehow fallen in with a trio of dudes all dressed as football players, including pads and helmets, and the topic of the Seattle Seahawk's chances to win this year was put forth. Personally, I didn't care if the Seahawks won the Nobel prize for physics, but they were all very serious in their speculations, even strident. Before I was able to excuse myself I had learnt exactly what had gone wrong last year, what was going wrong this year, and how exactly it could've all been fixed if only the coaches and managers hadn't somehow managed to screw it all up again. My prince gave a regal nod to all this and proceeded to extend his own conjectures, but I had heard all I needed to hear about a sport I sincerely did not care about, and after gulping the rest of my punch, I retreated to refill it.

As I poured the cup full with the dipper, I quickly scanned the room. No pixie, but what I saw was worse; my ex-boyfriend, Jake, making his way toward me with a grin and a costume that truly expressed his personality; Tarzan. He wore a faux-fur loincloth and little else, a costume that I'm sure was tactically chosen to show off as much of his tall, tanned, and chiseled physique as possible. We had broken up almost two years ago, but we had remained friends somehow, despite his somewhat dick-ish personality.

Still, against my better judgment I did like the oaf, so I didn't flee at his approach. He looked like he had something interesting to say, the way he was grinning and glancing about like a gossip.

"Hey," he said, whispering covertly under the music as he came up beside me. "Did you hear?"

He had an empty cup and I lifted the dipper to fill it for him. "Hear what?"

"There's lesbians in the house."

"Ugh," I said, dropping the dipper back into the bowl.

"No, seriously," he went on, excited like a little boy. "There's two of them. Maybe they'll get wasted and make out. That would be so awesome."

He was looking out over the party, searching for pornography in progress. The poor man was obviously too stupid to work a google search. He found no makeout session, but unfortunately, he did spot one of the lesbians in question, the tall native American one named Leah. She was talking to someone at the kitchen counter, and he gestured at her with his chin.

"Dare me to hit on her?"

"Why bother, Jake?"

"Come on, look at me," he said, gesturing at his bronzed torso with one hand, still smirking at his intended conquest. "What kind of woman could stay gay after getting a peek of this? Chick needs to know what she's missing out on. Here, look at this. Feel that bicep. Go ahead, feel it."

He tensed his arm to make the muscles bulge, but I made no move to touch it. First of all, he appeared to have rubbed himself with bodybuilding oil and I didn't want to wash my hands. Second of all, big muscles don't turn me on. And third of all, I was pissed at what an arrogant jack-ass he was. Fortunately, I knew him well enough to know that he didn't really mean to be such a chauvinistic prick. He was just too dumb to understand that women don't particularly enjoy being demeaned and objectified.

"Just leave her alone," I told him. "Alright, Jake?"

Jake lowered his arm and sipped his punch, apparently willing to abandon his plan of lesbian correction. Hopefully, he had only been joking, anyway. The cougar was sitting on a kitchen stool with her long legs crossed, each clad in leopard-print spandex. I looked at her and felt another wave of irrational jealousy. Jake didn't have a chance with this broad; not if she was dating the pixie.

"Hey, which one do you think's hotter?" Jake asked, switching the topic to something only slightly less offensive. "Did you see the other one? Which one would you do?"

The question made me frown. "Neither, Jake."

"Come on, why not?"

"Why do you think?"

"Because you're kind of frigid and stuck up?"

"I'm not a lesbian, asshole."

"Aww, I'm just playing around," he said, slapping me on the shoulder playfully. "Lighten up, don't be such a bitch. Come on, be honest; which one would you do if you had to do one?"

I exhaled through my nose, restraining my rage. The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering their own suggestions to Jake's query, but was that really possible? I could tell that I was violently attracted to the pixie, but that didn't mean I'd 'do' her. Did it? The butterflies flared at the thought and I realized I didn't even want to think about it.

"Oh look," Jake said, setting his drink on the table so he could pat down his hair with his hands. His attention had been drawn back to the cougar. She had slipped off the stool and moved over to the fridge. She was bending slightly as she reached for something on a lower shelf and the roundness of her spandex-covered ass seemed to demand Jake's immediate action. "Kitty-Kat leaving herself open. Watch this."

"Jake, don't—"

But it was too late. He wove through the party with the agility of a pro footballer intent on the endzone, and there was nothing I could do but watch as he hove up right beside the leopard skinned beauty. She had just straightened up from the fridge with two bottles of beer in her hands and she regarded him with little expression in her slanted dark eyes. The beginnings of a cringe appeared on my face as Jake recited some pick-up line to her. I was expecting her to make a disgusted face and walk away, but she didn't. She handed him one of the bottles, and at first I was surprised. But then she slapped him stiffly and took the bottle back. It made sense; she couldn't slap him with her hands full. Nearby partygoers laughed at Jake, and Jake, the sweetheart that he was, had the dignity to smile in his defeat.

Well. As entertaining as it was to watch the fails of an ex-boyfriend, I felt I should probably get back to the man who was likely to become my current boyfriend. So I shook my head once more, turned around, and—

Bumped into the pixie.

She had crept up behind me, as if shy about saying hello, and I almost spilt my drink on her. I almost spilt my _self_ on her. For a brief second I had an image in my head of tripping against her and sprawling together on the ground, and the image made me so dizzy I almost did fall into her.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, half panicked herself. "I was just…" She gestured at the punchbowl. She had an empty paper cup in her hand. She had trailed off at her lameness and then she looked at me. There was a rising blush on her glitter-dusted face and she gave me a very shy smile, like a little girl who'd been caught liking someone. "Hi," she said.

Heavenly god.

How can a woman possibly be so cute?

I swallowed a lump in my throat and forced my brain to focus. Every instinct I had in my body was to run, run as far away as I could from this bewitching pixie, but I couldn't. The girl was like a gigantic rainbow-colored magnet and I was rooted to the spot.

"Hi," I said.

She bobbed her head, as if to greet me one more time, and then she stood there nibbling her lip cutely. It was hard to believe she was as nervous as me, but it did seem like it. She raised her cup to take a sip, but the cup was empty. She giggled instead and then she gestured with the empty cup across the room at Jake, who appeared to be rubbing his cheek and bragging to a zombie about how close he'd come with the cougar.

"You wanna know what's ironic?" the pixie asked.

"What?"

"Leah's bi," she said. "She likes guys, she just hates dicks."

I chuckled. She had obviously seen the altercation between Jake and her friend. I wasn't really surprised. You don't have to be a lesbian to be uninterested in a guy like Jake; most straight chicks couldn't stand him either.

"Is she your girlfriend?" I asked.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "We're just friends."

I nodded, but I remembered how the other woman had wrapped her arm around the pixie's shoulders when they first arrived at the party. Even if they weren't together, I suspected that the cougar would like to be. That whore.

"Hey, listen," she said, before the silence could stretch too long. "I wanted to apologize about the other day. You know, when Jess set us up. She never told me you were straight. If I knew, I never would've…"

My heart began racing at the reminder and, surprisingly, I quickly rushed to mirror the sentiment. "Oh, that's okay," I said. "I mean, no big deal. Actually, I wanted to apologize too. I should've explained everything at the time instead of just running off like that. I was just kind of…um, shocked," I said, with an awkward chuckle. "I didn't mean to snub you or anything. Actually, I…"

But thankfully I managed to stop myself before I explained that I was actually quite mad about her. I didn't want to give the poor girl the wrong impression, after all.

She had listened to all this with great attention, as if trying to decipher something out of it, and then she nodded. "Thanks," she said. "I was just worried I might've made you uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable was putting it mildly, but I had the grace to smile and wave it off. It had been more than uncomfortable. It was excruciating. Even now I was sweating under my arms from simply being close to her. She was like a ninety-pound chunk of rainbow-colored kryptonite.

She was refilling her cup with some of the punch and for a second we just stood there, listening to the music while the party raged on around us. I was trying to think of something to say, but it was hard enough to simply stand still beside her without falling over. Finally I just blurted out the first thing on my mind.

"So, um. You're a lesbian?"

The question caught her mid-sip and she seemed slightly surprised. "Mmhm," she said. "Why?"

"No reason," I said, and I really had no idea. All I knew was that she was into girls and that was weirdly exciting to me. "Just curious," I said. "Actually, I've always wondered. How does, how does, how does…"

Jesus. What is it about this girl that stuns me incoherent? I took a breath and tried again.

"How does a woman realize?" I asked with effort. "That she's gay, I mean."

She smiled at my fumble; I hope she didn't realize the question was slightly more than idle curiosity. "It's different for everyone," she said. "It was very simple for me. I was always gay, even when I was a kid. I was only eight years old when I first had feelings for another girl."

I had a mental picture of an eight year old pixie crushing on the cutest girl in the playground and I almost squealed out loud. Thankfully, I contained myself.

"But my case is very rare," she said. "Most lesbian's realize between sixteen and twenty-five, somewhere around there. Usually it's post puberty. After all, it's mostly a sexual thing."

I nodded. I was twenty-eight, so maybe it was too late for me. If it was going to happen it would've happened by now, so obviously this was just some random—

"And then sometimes it can be latent," she added.

I didn't like the sound of that. "Latent?"

"Sure," she said. "It happened to a woman I knew. She was straight her whole life and then bam. Met a girl at the gym. Total love at first sight. She lost interest in men overnight practically. Then she looked back at her life and realized that she was never very interested in them anyway. Just going with the flow. She was always gay, she just never realized. Sometimes all it takes is a special event to trigger it."

I got a bad feeling. It sounded disturbingly familiar, because frankly I couldn't remember a single guy in my life that I had been crazy about, not off the top of my head at least. And worse, my interest in men had plummeted to the ground since this pixie had fluttered into my life. Even a guy like Edward hadn't managed to light any fires in me. I'd always figured I was simply unromantic, but what if…

But I was saved from further self-realization by the appearance of Edward himself. Him and his buddies must've singled handedly solved all the Seahawk's problems because he was smiling again – at Alice.

"Hi," he said. "Alice, right?"

I didn't like that he remembered her name. I didn't like that he was even looking at her. But was I jealous because I wanted all his attention to myself? Or had I simply developed an insane degree of possessiveness over this girl I didn't even know but completely adored?

The pixie's smile faltered slightly at the interruption, but she remained friendly and cheerful. "Yep," she said. "And you're Edward, right? Bella's boyfriend."

I winced; I knew that was going to bite me in the ass. Edward chuckled and wrapped his arm around me playfully. "Hopefully," he said, and then nodded at the pixie's costume. "Wow, that costume is amazing. You look adorable."

Oh my god. It was wrong, but I felt like killing him. To be fair, the compliment was delivered without any flirty undertone at all—just a harmless observation—but the fact that he had noticed how cute she was made me want to claw his eyes out.

"Thanks," she said. "Yours is kind of cute too. I love seemed stockings." She giggled and added, "Although I prefer them on girls."

He chuckled. I thought it was very nice they could be so friendly, but honestly, I just really wanted to get the hell out of here. I looked around the rowdy living room for Jess, but she was nowhere I could see. She had probably slipped off somewhere with Mike. What I saw instead was the cougar woman, Leah, coming toward us. She had noticed her friend speaking to me, and she didn't appear to like that.

She wrapped her arm around the pixie's shoulders, almost as if to mirror Edward's arm around me. "Hey, Alice, you ready to go yet?" she said. "This party blows. Nothing but dicks and straight chicks." She then noticed my cleavage and smirked at me. "Hey," she said.

Well. Maybe she deserves Jake, after all.

The pixie sighed and her neon wings almost seemed to droop. It might've been my imagination, but I think she was hoping for more time alone with me. "Yeah, I guess it's getting a little late," she said. "I wonder where Jess is? Do you think—"

There was a boisterous noise behind her and some asshole bumped into her back. The small pixie staggered forward and emptied the contents of her cup into my cleavage. The cougar had turned to bark at the offender and Edward stepped back from the splash zone. A pink punch-stain covered my pale bosom and the pixie burst into panic.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she cried. "Someone bumped me, I—"

She had snatched up a napkin and she was dabbing at my breasts. This was too much for me. I always did enjoy breastplay, but no man had ever driven them crazy the way this pixie was doing now with no tool more erotic than a napkin. The butterflies stormed up from my stomach and before my heart could burst out of my chest I spun away from her hand and hurried for the door.

I went back to my apartment and threw on the light in the bathroom. I turned on the tap to clean myself, but that's as far as I got. For a full minute I just leaned on the sink, my chest rising and falling with each breath. I wasn't hyperventilating, but it was close enough. I just couldn't believe what was happening to me.

I was falling for another woman.

I really was.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door and when I looked I saw Edward, standing there in his doublet and tights, his crown cocked on his head. He was handsome, but he just really did not look attractive to me at all.

"You okay?" he asked. "You know, it was probably just an accident. No need to get upset."

"Yeah, I just…" I took a breath and turned off the tap. "I hate being embarrassed, that's all." I took a towel off the rack and wiped at my chest half-heartedly. Then I just sighed. "Well, my costume's ruined," I said, even though the material was dark burgundy and you could barely see a damp patch, let alone a stain. "I can't go back to the party."

He nodded and then he just watched me for a second. I wondered what he was thinking. He must've noticed how strange I acted around the pixie, and Jess had mentioned that I had attempted to date a girl named Alice. Did he suspect that I was secretly crazy about her? Somehow I got that impression. He didn't even move to kiss me goodnight.

"Well, I guess this is goodnight, then," he said. "Can I call you tomorrow?"

I was sure he was only asking to be polite, but suddenly I wasn't sure if I wanted him to go. He obviously really liked me, and yet he was willing to back away gracefully because he had noticed I might be attracted to someone else – and a woman, at that. Maybe I was simply in a muddled mood, but I found this attractive. Consideration and understanding have always been nice turn ons for me, and besides; I really don't want to be a lesbian.

So I shrugged one of my bare shoulders and tossed the towel in the sink. "Aren't you gonna kiss me goodnight?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

"Are you sure?"

"Why not? It's a date, isn't it?"

He seemed a touch surprised, but pleasantly, almost relieved. He probably thought he had misinterpreted the way I kept staring at another woman all night.

It had been a long time since I'd been kissed, but it didn't require much effort from my end. His hand cupped the nape of my neck and I lifted my face. I braced myself for any kind of fireworks as his lips descended on mine, or even just a spark. But there was nothing. All I felt was a dull muttering of butterflies in my stomach. It was very disappointing, and I was almost angry as I deepened the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck as I searched with my tongue for some kind of pleasure in his mouth. I found nothing but an odd sense of…eww.

The feeling didn't appear to be mutual. He was enjoying the kiss a great deal, and when he finally pulled back, he was short of breath. "Bedroom?" he asked.

I suppose my snap decision to tongue him had sent the wrong impression. Still, he was a man and I was a woman. What could be more natural than sex? Well, three dates would be a good start, but I didn't know if my orientation would hold out that long. Tonight might be my only chance to realign my sexuality back the way it was before it was too late. He was waiting for a response and I nodded quickly before he realized I was hesitating. Luckily, he was too excited to notice; his lips covered mine once more and soon we were in my bedroom.

And so, for the first time in a long time, Bella Swan had sex with a living man. It was okay once we got started, but all in all, it didn't do much to convince me I wasn't going completely lezbo.

—

Chapter 7: Phone Call

—

I woke up in the morning early and with a lingering self-loathing – but thankfully alone. Edward had offered to spend the night, since wise men know it's the chivalrous thing to do, but I brushed it off and sent him on his way with a peck on the cheek. He had no clothes at my place, and even if I did crave a cuddle, I doubt I would've been cruel enough to make him drive home in the clear light of morning dressed like a prince.

So at least I was spared that particular embarrassment. It was still gray light when I opened my eyes and I laid there for a long time, reflecting on what an awful night it was and wondering if it was suspicious that I didn't enjoy it more. It was rare for me to be so unsure of myself, but I honestly had no idea. I examined myself the way I'd examine a character in a book, which of course left me open to interpretation. Both sides of the argument made sense. Edward was an attractive man with a lean body, ample stamina, and a moderately large penis; there was no reason I shouldn't have enjoyed it. And yet I hardly knew the guy, so maybe it was natural to feel somewhat reserved. Of course, this argument was countered by the fact that I'd had one-night stands before with no problems. Maybe it was simply my mood. In hindsight, I was probably in no state to have sex, not while the majority of my hormones were so keenly distracted. As much as I hate a cliché, it would've been smarter to wait until it felt right. Because as it was, last night was just plain uncomfortable. Far worse than a regular first time. The awkward aspects of the affair had stood out to me in a way they never had before. How to dispose of the condom, for instance. I didn't want the thing in my house, but I couldn't exactly tell him to throw it out the window or take it with him. Overall, I felt the awkwardness was a steep price to pay for an orgasm that was mild at best.

In any case, there was a limit to how much self-realization one could achieve before coffee, so I decided to put the ordeal out of my mind at least until after breakfast.

It was bright light by the time I staggered out of bed and into the shower. I gave myself a good scrubbing, as if to repair my self-respect. My poor body. It deserved better than to be thrown around in some tawdry attempt to screw away thoughts of other women. I'm sure it would rather be lesbian than treated so wantonly.

For breakfast I had a huge bowl of Fruity Pebbles, my favorite cereal. They weren't healthy, but I could use the pick-me-up. I was very depressed, although I wasn't quite sure why. I was attracted to a girl, but that in itself wasn't the end of the world. There was nothing wrong with same-sex attraction. I never thought it would happen to me, but it did. No use denying it. I was probably kidding myself if I pretended I wouldn't enjoy dating her. I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather spend time with. She was even available; all I had to do was get her number from Jess.

I sighed and stirred my cereal, the rainbow colors reminding me of the pixie's costume last night. Gosh, she was so cute. Butterflies had began to ruin my appetite, but I didn't care. These feelings were strange and uncomfortable, but at the same time they were so nice and attractive. I let myself think about her, remembering her wings, her tutu, her pretty pink shoes. The glitter on her face. Her smile.

The phone rang. It was my wall phone, and for a second I thought it might be Edward. But a guy like that would know better than to call a woman the morning after sex – too needy. Which only left one person – Angela. I knew she'd want details about last night, but it was still kind of early, even for a Sunday. Obviously she was eager to live vicariously through my date with her boss.

"Hey," I said, answering the phone and sitting back down at the kitchen counter with the phone at my ear. "What's up?"

"Oh my god, I couldn't even sleep last night," she babbled excitedly. "How did it go?"

"How did what go?" I asked, just because I was grouchy.

"The party! The date! Did he kiss you? Please tell me he kissed you. Oh my god, I would just die if he kissed you."

"What is this, highschool?"

I suppose my sullen tone was a clue that last night hadn't quite been a fairytale, because she changed her tone. "Oh no, why are you so glum? Didn't he kiss you? Don't tell me he stood you up. That asshole!"

"He didn't stand me up," I grumbled through a mouthful of cereal.

"Oh, thank god," she said. "Well, go on. How did it go?"

I sighed into the phone; obviously it hadn't gone well enough to be enthusiastic about it. "I don't know," I said. "I just woke up, Ange."

"Oooh, so you had a late night, huh?"

"Actually, we left early. Someone spilt a drink on me."

"Ugh, what a jerk."

"It was just an accident, Ange," I said, feeling a warm flush of protectiveness. It was always embarrassing to have punch poured into your bust, but she was so cute that I just couldn't hold a grudge. "She didn't mean to."

"Okay, don't get upset. Come on, tell me more about Mr Masen," she said, then giggled. "Oh my god, you're so lucky. I can't believe you actually had a date with him. I know girls at work who would kill to be in your shoes!"

"He was great, okay Ange? He's a great guy. Nice, friendly, charming. I just…"

"Just what?"

I hesitated, stirring the cereal. I was half-tempted to pretend I had an awesome time, for the sake of both her fantasy and my heterosexuality, but I just didn't have the energy. Besides, if a girl can't confide in her best friend, who can she confide in?

"I'm just not sure if I like him," I said.

This obviously wasn't what Angela was expecting.

"WHAT?" she quacked into the phone. "Why not?"

"I don't know. No sparks, you know?"

" _Sparks_? Who are you, Sandra Bullock? Is this a movie? Is there a script I'm not aware of? What the hell's wrong with you? He's a BILLIONAIRE, chickie-do, and you're complaining to me about SPARKS?"

"I can't help it if I don't like him, Ange."

"Come on, you've barely given him a chance. You had what, one date? Nobody sparks after one date. It takes time to spark. You can't expect a guy to spark you on your first date."

"Would you stop saying spark?"

"Sorry," she said with a laugh. "But seriously, Bells, I think you're just being picky here. It's probably because you haven't had a date in a while. Your body's forgotten how to spark."

I wasn't sure about that. Just standing near the pixie had made me crackle like a circuitboard. It was truly incredible; there were moments last night when I actually had difficulty standing up. The sheer electricity of the girl had almost caused me overload entirely.

"Did you at least flicker?" Angela went on. "Maybe a tingle?"

"Would you stop with the adjectives?"

"Come on, you must've felt something."

"I don't know. Maybe a sputter or two."

It wasn't the most splendid adverb, but Angela chose to take it optimistically. "Well, there you go," she said. "Sputters are good. That's all you can expect from a first date. You just need to give him a chance, that's all. Give him two more dates and then we'll see if you get sparked."

"I don't know, Ange," I said. "I'm not even sure if I want to see him again."

I hadn't even been aware I felt that way until I said it out loud. But it was true. He was a nice guy and very rich – but I just really didn't want to see him.

"Really?" Angela said, and I could almost hear her screw up her face. "But why, though? I mean, you've got nothing to lose. Why not? You don't want to be single for the rest of your life, do you?"

"I don't know."

"Wow, you're incredible. Do you know how ungrateful you're being? Men like Mr Masen don't grow on trees, you know. You should be on your hands and knees thanking the guy."

I shook my head. Angela had never been what you would call a 'feminist,' but that seemed somewhat pathetic, even for her. I was tempted to launch into a well-meaning lecture about how men aren't actually god's greatest gift to women, but I decided to remain on topic.

"Don't be an idiot, Ange," I said. "Besides, there's no guarantee he even likes me. Maybe he won't even call," I added hopefully, although he had promised before he left that he'd call tonight.

"Come on, that's bullshit," Angela said, her fantasy for me not easily dislodged. "I saw how he looked at you in the office that day. Now THAT was sparks. Unless you embarrassed yourself horribly at the party, there's no way he wouldn't want to see you a couple more times. How did you end it, anyway? Did he act like he wanted to see you again? Did he kiss you?"

I sighed and let the spoon drop in the bowl with a clatter. I decided to come clean, since it was obviously the only way to satisfy her.

"I slept with him, Ange."

"Oh my god," she said.

"I wouldn't say that."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely."

"Oh my god," she repeated, redundantly, I thought. Then a grin came into her voice. "What was it like? Was it everything I ever dreamed of?"

"You're married, you shouldn't be dreaming about anybody."

"Come on," she urged, "was it good?"

"It was alright."

"Just alright?"

"That's what I'm saying, Ange," I said. "He's a great guy, but we just didn't click."

She was silent for a second. The conversation had not turned out the way she thought, and she was readjusting her expectations. "Well, maybe you went too fast?" she suggested. "I mean, you're an adult and everything, and you're free to put out as early as you want – but on the first date? And anyway, what the hell did you sleep with him for if you don't even like him? Were you drunk?"

I cringed and swapped the phone to my other ear to stall a response. My reasons for sleeping with him included an attempt to stave off a possible lesbian awakening, so naturally I was reluctant to admit it.

"It's complicated," I said.

I heard her kids make noise in the background and she shouted something at them quickly. "Well, you better explain it quickly," she said when the phone was back at her ear. "I gotta take the kids to soccer practice, and after that I'm getting my hair done. Then we have people coming over to replace the wallpaper in Lilly's room - one of the pipes was leaking and soaked through the whole wall, even into the closet. She didn't notice for a week and her clothes got all moldy and musty. I had to throw them all out. I could've had them cleaned, I suppose, but she's still growing so most of it was a bit small, and she needs some new stuff anyway. Ben's worried about the money—because we're going to get all the pipes changed as well—but he had that pay rise last month, and my job isn't going anywhere. I think he's just being cheap. Anyway, why it's complicated?"

One thing I've always loved about married women is how they assume every detail of their domestic life is of great interest to everyone else. Honestly; if I cared about your homelife, I'd check your facebook page.

But at least Angela wasn't cruel enough to force me to comment on it all. Then again, maybe that would be preferable to explaining exactly why it was complicated. I wasn't the kind of woman who liked to talk about her feelings—mostly because I didn't have that many of them—but in the spur of the moment, I decided to just go ahead. Angela was my best friend, but more importantly, she was a closed-minded romantic who legitimately believed a woman without a man is an incomplete woman. She wasn't likely to be supportive, so there was really no harm telling her.

"There's someone else," I said, and even revealing this much caused the butterflies to flutter.

"Someone else?"

"Yeah."

"Wait a second, let me get this straight. You were already seeing someone… _before_ you decided to date my boss?"

"No, I'm not seeing them," I said, painfully aware of the non-gender pronoun. "I barely know them. I just…"

"Ahh," she said, as if she understood. "So you didn't click with Mr Masen because you're all gaga over this other guy?"

It was pretty close, so I nodded into the phone. "Something like that."

"Well, how come you never told me? I'm your best friend. All crushes should be reported as soon as they're identified. I don't have a love life of my own, you know, I have to live through yours."

"Ben's great, you're lucky."

"Don't change the subject," she said. "Who's this guy you like? Where did you meet him? Is he hot? Oh wait—I remember last week you mentioned you met someone. Is this that same guy?"

"Kind of."

"So who is he? Must be cute if you're still thinking about him."

Oh, cute, cute, cute, so fucking cute. Was I really going to admit this out loud?

"Well," I said. "It's complicated."

"You said that."

"I mean, I barely know—him," I said, almost tripping on the pronoun. But I caught myself and recovered. "The first time I ever talked to him was at the Halloween party. But I saw him at a coffeeshop once, and…"

"And what? Sparks?"

"Y-yeah," I said, and blew out a breath. "I don't know, Ange. There's just something about…him."

Angela was silent for a second. Then she cleared her throat quietly. "Bella," she said. "Stop me if I'm wrong here, but I can't help noticing that you're kind of faltering over the masculine pronouns. Am I to take that to imply that…"

I didn't answer. I held the phone, cringing, and she said:

"Oh."

"Yeah," I said, gulping the lump in my throat. "Her name's Alice. Jess set us up on a blind date as a joke. She didn't tell me she was a girl. And then she just walked in, and…" I shook my head at the memory and heaved a sigh. "She blew my fucking mind."

"Wow," Angela said. "A chick did?"

"Yeah."

"But you don't even like girls."

"I know," I said. "That's what so fucking weird. I mean, you remember me in college. I dated guys all the time, I was never interested in chicks. And it's not like I didn't have opportunities. I was on the softball team, I had tons of lesbian friends. Never once did I find any of them attractive, and now…"

I trailed off. Angela waited a moment to see if I'd go on, but I didn't. When she spoke, I could almost hear the shrug in her voice. "Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much," she said. "I mean, we all get girl crushes. It's even natural, almost."

"You think?"

"Sure. I've had plenty of girl crushes—well, two of them, at least. You know that girl from Harry Potter?"

"Emma Watson?"

"Oh yeah," she said, and giggled. "I'd totally do her. Not from the early movies, I mean. The later ones, when she's all grown up. And now, oh my god—have you seen her with short hair? So fucking hot. I'd bang her any day."

I chuckled and shook my head. Angela was a woman who clearly didn't understand the difference between fantasy and reality. "That's a celebrity, Ange," I said. "I'm talking about for real."

"Well, it's basically the same thing. I mean, so what if a chick made you hot? Doesn't mean you're gay."

"I didn't say I was."

"I know, I'm just saying. I just don't want you to get messed up over this, that's all. You sound a little confused, you know?"

"So your think it's no big deal?"

"Of course it isn't. You were never boy crazy, but you're definitely no lesbian. I mean, come on. If you were gay you would've noticed it by now."

I was skeptical, but I nodded into the phone. Angela had no idea how intense these feelings really were, but was she made perfect sense in many ways. The butterflies didn't agree, but I was willing to ignore them for the moment.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "So what do you think I should do?"

"About what?" she asked.

For a second I was stunned. I had just confessed to having my mind literally blown, but because it was a woman who did it, the event was no more legitimate than an idle girl crush. The woman set a new standard for straightness.

"About this girl," I said. "I mean, do you think I should try and see her again? I could get her number from Jess, and I'm pretty sure she liked me. She kept looking at me at the party. Jess said she doesn't date straight chicks, but…"

"She's actually gay?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. Is she cute?"

"She's incredible."

"Yeah, well, I don't know, Bells. I'm mean, even you do like her, you're still not gay. It would never work out in the end. I mean, it's okay to experiment and all, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, what about Mr Masen? You really want to give up on a guy like that over some kind of girl crush?"

"I think it's more than a crush, Ange."

"Well, whatever, but it's still just a once-off kind of thing. I mean, what's gonna happen when you wake up and realize you could've married and beared the biological children of a gorgeous billionaire that most women would die for?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had spent the first half of the conversation explaining that I didn't even want to see him again. Now she was planning our wedding?

I was about to speak, but her kids made a racket in the background. I heard a high-pitched squeal and Angela quickly said:

"Oh, honey don't—"

I heard a loud crash of glass; possibly a window.

"—kick the ball in the house," she finished in a deflated voice. "Shit, Bella, I gotta go. Listen, you want my honest advice?"

"Sure."

"Stick by the phone and wait for Mr Masen to call," she told me. "Give him another chance before you think about anyone else, alright?"

It was disappointing advice, but I nodded. I was probably gonna do that anyway.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"You bet I am. Look, call me later after he calls you, okay? Just so I know what happens. You get your head straight, you hear?"

"I will," I said, although I had my doubts. "Catch you later, Ange."

I pressed disconnect with my thumb and sighed. I set the phone down on the counter beside the cereal bowl. I lifted a spoonful of mushy Fruit Pebbles and let it plop back into the milk. I'm falling in love with a woman and now my cereal's all soggy; what a horrible thing life can be.

Ah well. Complaining never helps, and confiding to your best friend doesn't either, apparently. And so, left no other alternative, I dumped the bowl in the sink and washed it quickly at the tap. A stack of dirty dishes would only add to my problems. I set the clean bowl on the rack to dry, and as I did, someone knocked on my door. Unless someone had let Mormons into the building again, it could only be one person. Must I be bothered by all my BFF's this morning? They seem to do nothing but meddle and make my life difficult.

I opened the door and it was indeed Jess. She was dressed in her gym clothes and jogging on the spot in the corridor, a citrus-colored singlet and plain black sweats. Her blonde hair was in a high ponytail that bounced as she jogged but she stopped jogging as the door opened.

"Hey," she chirped. "Cool party last night, huh? I got so laid."

I did as well, but rather than share this, I simply nodded. "Good for you."

"I'm hung over as fuck," she went on, "but I was gonna go for a jog and hit the gym anyway. Need to burn off all that candy. Anyway, wanna come? You're getting a bit pudgy too lately."

I was already shaking my head reluctantly, but then I stopped. Because I remembered something Jess had once mentioned about her friend Alice.

She met her at the gym.

The gym was where they met.

The butterflies flared in my stomach and my head shaking somehow turned to nodding. "Uh, sure," I said, already backing into my apartment. "Just let me grab some clothes quickly."

I ducked into my room and quickly grabbed up the clothes I wear to workout. I generally exercise at home, with an stationary bike and some light weights, but today I felt like getting out of the apartment. That's all it was. I didn't really expect to see the pixie there. I mean, just because Jess met her at a gym, doesn't mean she's there every time Jess is there. Jess had never mentioned how often she saw her. Maybe it was only Thursday afternoons, or even Tuesdays.

So, there. There was absolutely no reason to expect to bump into the pixie. None at all.

But I took a moment to brush my hair and make up my face anyway.

—

Chapter 8: Gym

—

The gym Jess belonged to was called Club Metro. She had joined it because the name sounded more like a night club than a health club. She thought it was cool. I had joined because Jess told me to. I'm not normally a submissive personality, but after a week of being badgered about what an awesome place it was and how awesome it would be workout together, I had decided that I either had to join or risk shutting her up in a more permanent fashion. So I joined.

We both had twelve month memberships, but I'd only been here a handful of times until Jess got bored of pestering me. Today was the first time in months. Jess and I had already been jogging, so we didn't need to get changed. I had no idea why Jess paid for a membership when she liked to complete half her workout before even stepping through the doors. I suppose she simply enjoyed frolicking in the sunlight like a bushy-tailed bunny. In any case, I hadn't been here in a long time and I wasn't sure what I'd left in my locker—if anything—so I had bought a gym bag with clothes I could change into afterwards. If the pixie was here I might need a fresh pair of underwear.

The jog was just over two miles, around the block, and through the park, and by the time we got to the actual gym I was already half-wiped. We'd both bought ipods, but Jess took advantage of my company by gabbing on and on about Mike and everything Mike did to her last night. Stories that featured a naked Mike weren't stories that fascinated me, so I only pretended to listen. Mostly I was trying to calculate my chances of bumping into the pixie. I could've saved myself a bunch of anxiety if I simply asked Jess, but I didn't want Jess to think I wanted to see her. Because I don't. I mean, I was just wondering.

And so, the butterflies were in full flutter as we entered through the sliding glass doors and into the well-lit and air-conditioned cool of the health club. A clank of weight machines came from the rear and I craned my neck to see if I recognized anyone. But it was mostly roid monkeys and a few women who were only identifiable as female because they were wearing sportsbras. The pixie wouldn't be in that section. She seemed more like an aerobics girl. Maybe she was in one of the fitness classes. Or maybe pilates. Oh, who am I kidding? She probably wasn't even here, and even if she was—

"Okay, I'm gonna go say hi to Alice," Jess said, already backing away. "You go put your stuff in the locker room."

I froze. She was here.

The pixie was in the building.

Jess was already gone, and for a moment I fought with the urge to flee. Why was I even here, anyway? I hated exercising and my body was fine for what was required of it. Why did I come? It was a bad idea, very bad idea. Why did the pixie have to be here, today of days? The first time I've been to the gym in months and now this happens. I was blushing just being in the same building as her. Would my legs even be strong enough to use any of the machines?

I trudged into the locker room and stowed my gymbag in my locker. It felt like the first day of school, only worse. I closed the locker, not quite whimpering, and went out to face the cuteness.

With butterflies in my tummy, I ventured further into the interior, past the reception desk and the first bank of rowing machines. I could hear the hum of machinery and the low drone of too-loud ipods, and I swept my eyes across the room furtively, pretending to myself I was only looking for Jess. I had almost convinced myself that maybe the pixie wasn't here after all, but then I saw her. She was on one of the treadmills, jogging. My eyes tripped over her and snapped back and my heart slammed in my chest.

Good god.

Dat ass.

Her back was to me and she was wearing capri tights, black with a pink stripe up the side. They fit her curves incredibly well and I was somewhat overcome by a sudden urge to stumble forward with my hands outheld and touch it. But that would be sexual assault, and even though a good lawyer and a lenient judge would likely get the sentence suspended, I felt it was best not to risk it. So I took a breath and let it out shakily. Then I went over.

Jess had been hovering around the treadmill chatting and when I finally glanced at her I realized she had noticed. There was a knowing grin on her cute—albeit rat-like—face, and a hot blast of shame washed over me. I had been caught staring at another woman's ass with my mouth open and possibly drooling. How humiliating.

"Hey, Alice was just warming up," Jess said. "Lookin hot, huh?"

Yep, she noticed.

The pixie blushed and slowed to a stop, tapping a couple buttons on the control panel. She turned to me and gave a quick nod. She wore no makeup and no lipstick, but she was prettier than ever. The exercise had colored her cheeks and brightened her eyes, and there were little dewdrops of sweat on her forehead. She was wearing a pink jogbra and looking at her made me want to squeal.

"Hi," she said.

I nodded back. "Hi."

Jess watched us with a smirk. Was the tension obvious? Jess wasn't the wisest or most mature young woman on the planet—or even within five yards—but she always did have a six sense about romance. She sucked at her own relationships, but this was the same girl who had set me up on a blind date with a woman who drove me crazy – all on a hunch. Could she tell now that her scheme was more of a success than I had initially reported?

I think she did, because even as the silence became awkward, she didn't break it in her usual obnoxious manner. She just stood there, grinning, waiting to see what would happen. Which was maybe even more obnoxious. The pixie glanced between us, almost as nervous as me, and finally she realized that no one was going to speak unless it was her.

"Sorry about last night, by the way," she said to me, grasping at the first thing on her mind. "When I, you know."

She gestured at my chest, but I waved it off with a chuckle. No apology needed. It had been embarrassing and it had caused me to go home early and sleep with a guy I didn't really like, but really; it wasn't the girl's fault she freaked me out just by being so cute.

I glanced at Jess, hoping she'd finally jump in, but the exchange only made her grin wider. Alice glanced at her too, and back at me, and since the tension wasn't going away anytime soon, she evidently decided to go away herself.

"Well, I'm going to, um…get some water," she said, stepping down from the treadmill and throwing a towel over her shoulder. "Be right back."

I nodded, and I only turned to watch her go because I thought it was polite. I didn't mean to look at her ass again. But I did, and it was beautiful, and then I turned back to my meddling blonde BFF.

"Oh my god," she said. "You were totally checking her out."

I cringed. "No, I wasn't."

"You were practically drooling! Did you even see yourself? Open mouthed and everything. I mean, I know she has a nice ass, but that was almost offensive the way you were—"

"Jess," I hissed. She was getting loud, and I didn't want anyone to hear.

She quieted down, glanced around with a grin, and leaned a little closer to me. "But seriously," she said, "tell me the truth. Do you like her?"

I let out a breath. Frowning, I looked back at where the pixie disappeared, my heart fluttering, and then I turned the frown to Jess. I took another breath and decided to just admit it. Denial was childish at this point, and as my self-professed BFF, I suppose she was entitled to a secret or two.

"Fine," I said. "She's cute, okay?"

"I knew it!"

" _Jess_."

She giggled, unfazed at the odd looks she drew from a pair of nearby cyclists, and lowered her voice to an excited whisper. "But do you see? If you weren't such a stuckup bitch, you could've been dating her right now. Now it might be too late."

"Too late?" I said, with a strange sinking feeling. "What do you mean?"

"She hooked up with that Leah chick last night, she just told me before you came over."

My face drained. I didn't come here looking for a date, but I would be lying if I said I didn't find this piece of gossip just a tad crushing. The pixie was no longer available. She was cute, and perfect, and the most desirable thing I had ever seen in my life – and she was taken. It didn't matter because I don't date chicks, but… but…

Jess tapped my shoulder and tossed her chin at someone behind me. "Here she comes, and look, look, she's checking you out – no, no, don't look, don't look."

I had half turned like an idiot, but then I turned back, my body stiffening at the idea of the pixie's eyes on it. I was wearing a pair of gray sportshorts and I desperately hoped I look good in them.

The pixie returned with a bottle of spring water and a smile. "So, you guys wanna work out together?" she asked, this time not waiting for the silence to become awkward. "I just passed the Ellipticals, there's three of them free."

Jess visibly hesitated, and I knew instantly what she was thinking. Her matchmaking instincts were tingling and she wanted to leave me alone.

With the pixie.

"Actually, I kinda got a headache," she said, pointing at her own head like an idiot. "I think I partied too hard last night. Mike banged my brains out," she said, laughing.

The pixie smiled oddly, unsure of a proper reaction. "That's…nice," she said.

"Yeah," Jess chuckled. "So, anyway, I'm just gonna go home. But you guys hang out. I mean, it always goes quicker with someone to talk to. So, yeah, I'll see you later, kay Bella? I'm too tired to workout. Actually, I think I might get a donut on the way home. Fuck losing weight. I mean, it's not like I'm fat, right? Anyway, later!"

Jess was already walking backwards, and with a wave, she turned and left. I managed to contain most of my anguish, but Jess really made no sense sometimes. Why leave me alone with a girl who was already taken? But then again, a hookup isn't a relationship. Maybe it wasn't completely out of the question – assuming that I did date girls, which I didn't.

In any case, there was no reason to feel weird, no reason for my heart to flutter like a humming bird. The pixie was a friend of a friend, nothing more, and there was nothing strange at all about working out with a friend, if that's what she wanted to do. So I turned to her, to see if she wanted to. She looked as nervous as I was, but her nervousness was so much cuter. She took one last sip from her water bottle and screwed the cap back on, paying attention to the task as if it was a valid distraction, and then she smiled at me.

"So," she said. "What do you usually do?"

"Workout at home," I said. "But Jess…"

I rolled my eyes at Jess's departure and she giggled agreement. We fell silent, listening to the ambiance of exercise equipment and the dance-track that played over the sound system, and I decided to leave it up to her if we were going to workout together. She glanced around the gym, as if there was something fascinating out there, and then she turned back to me and gave a little shrug.

"Well," she said. "Jess and I sometimes do a bit on the Ellipticals together, so…"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

I nodded, feigning casualness. As if it was perfectly normal for me to workout with women who make me weak with their smiles. She smiled at me now, weakening my limbs even further, and nodded back.

"Okay."

—

Chapter 9: Worked Out

—

The Ellipticals were arranged on the far side of the gym and I actually stumbled slightly as I stepped onto the machine. My sneakers must've been slippery. It wasn't because every bone in my body had gone buttery from watching the pixie step up onto her own Elliptical.

"Whoa, you okay?" she asked, and maybe it was just me, but her concern struck me as insanely sweet.

"Yeah," I said, climbing up and grabbing the handbars. "I'm just…"

Totally crushing on a chick.

The pixie nodded and tapped a couple buttons on the control panel. "I don't do anything very intense, just a quick ten minutes of intervals. Twenty seconds work, ten seconds rest, eight cycles. What about you?"

"Err…" I hadn't been on an Elliptical in months, but I wanted to impress her with something strenuous. I was a naturally competitive person, but it was also possible that subconsciously I wanted to let her know that I would be a strong and agile hunter who could provide for her and her young one day. "I just use it like a treadmill, but with the resistance pretty high and a bit of an incline. It targets the, uh…"

I couldn't remember the name of the booty-muscle, so I pointed vaguely in the direction of my hips. The pixie glanced and she might've had a flash of something because she glanced away pretty quickly.

"Oh yeah, the um…" It seemed she had forgotten as well. She shook her head quickly, as if to shake away the blush that had lit up her face, and suddenly remembered. "Glutes," she said. "The, uh…glutes."

"Yeah, glutes and hamstrings," I agreed, frowning down at the control panel as I set the resistance and incline levels, already beginning to move into the workout. It made me uncomfortable to be checked out by another woman, but maybe that was only because it made me tingle so badly. "They're, um…good muscles."

She nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the timer, and then she burst into motion, running in place as fast as she could with her little hands gripping the bars. I was surprised at how fast she went, but that was the point of these interval workouts. When her twenty seconds was up she slowed almost to a stroll, shooting me a smile with a fresh sheen of sweat on her head.

"Whew," she said. "So, Jess says you're an author?"

I guess now was time for the 'getting to know you' portion of the workout. "Uh huh."

"Jess recommended one of your books for me, the one with a bit of girl-girl action. Hot stuff," she giggled, and then suddenly sped up again.

"Thanks," I said, remembering the scene she mentioned. At the time, I'd written it with an entirely neutral perspective. The idea of two chicks makingout never did turn me on, but it was easy to understand the appeal of kissing someone with full lips and no facial hair. "So, uh, what about you?" I asked. "What do you do?"

"Jess never told you?"

"Jess didn't even tell me your name."

"Oh, right, I forgot," she said, slightly breathless, still going flat out on the machine. "I was the practical part of the joke, wasn't I? She's a good friend, but sometimes she can be a little thoughtless, can't she?"

"That's putting it mildly," I muttered.

She laughed, although I wasn't joking, and slowed down to her rest pace. "Well," she said. "I'm an astrophysicist."

I raised my eyebrows. "An astrophysicist?"

"Mmhm."

"Wow," I said, with real respect. Earning a PhD was no small feat and doing it with a face and body as cute as that seemed to make the accomplishment all the more notable. "So that makes you Dr Alice?"

"Dr _Brandon_ ," she corrected playfully, before whirling into motion once again. "But Dr Alice does sound cute, doesn't it?"

I smiled at her humor. I wasn't the kind of person who took a lot of interest in other people's lives—well, not genuine interest—but I felt the urge to know more about her and what kind of things she does – in her job, I mean. Not the bedroom. I could picture the kind of things she got up to in her bedroom and I didn't want to. Don't know why that would even occur to me.

"So what does an astrophysicist do?" I asked. "You don't go into space, do you?"

I only asked that to be cute; I'm not that dumb.

"No," she said, "I just look at space through a telescope. I study stars and planets and things, trying to figure out why they behave the way they do."

"Wow," I said, and I really was very impressed. She looked young enough to be a highschool student almost, not some kind of professor. "How old are you?" I inquired. "If that's okay to ask."

"Twenty-six," she said, slowing down and swiping a towel over her forehead. "I got my doctorate last year and since then I've been attached to the physics department at Seattle U."

"I went to Seattle University, too," I said, oddly delighted that we had this in common.

"Really?" she said, smiling as if the discovery delighted her as well. "What did you study?"

"Literature."

"Naturally."

"I was on the softball team as well," I mentioned, but then I remembered that softball is a stereotypical gathering ground for lesbians, so I quickly added, "I played a lot of different sports. My boyfriend at the time was on the football team, so…"

That was actually true. I'd been dating Jake at the time, a hunky linebacker who wore his hair long in the off-season. I suppose I was too young and stupid to know any better.

"Cool," she said, and sped up again. "I was on the hockey team, but I was too small to be any good. The only extra-curricular I really excelled in was chasing chicks."

She said the last part with a breathless laugh, as if admitting something embarrassing and slightly naughty, and then she glanced at me quickly, as if to check if it was okay to mention that kind of thing. Our earlier interactions might've led her to believe I was slightly homophobic, given the fact that every time we've crossed paths I've ran away from her as if she was a monster.

Now, however, I'd had to think, and I was pretty resigned to the fact this girl turned me on even though I wasn't gay. And frankly, I thought her girl-chasing habits might be an interesting topic of conversation. It wouldn't be worse than the boy-crazed drivel I put up with from Jess every week.

So I glanced at her, blushing, and gave a small smile. "I'll bet," I said, not really encouraging her to go on, but allowing her the opening if she wanted to.

Hesitating for a second, she shrugged and went on, almost as if it was something she wanted me to know about her. "It was a phase I went through," she said, speaking loudly over the drone of the machine. "There were a couple years back then when I thought it was cool to turn straight chicks. But I'm not like that these days. Actually, straight chicks are a pretty big turn off for me," she said, and then smirked and gave my body a gentle but pointed glance. "Psychologically, at least," she added.

A spastic fluttering of butterflies occurred in my stomach, but somehow I managed not to fall off the machine. "How, how, how come?" I asked, stuttering like a retard. "I mean, what's the difference? Isn't a girl a girl, straight or not?"

"Well, kind of," she said, "but not really. It's a completely different attitude and set of experiences. I don't know. The older I get, the more obvious it becomes that straight women have advantages I don't. You begin to resent it after a while. Plus, I'm at a point in my life where I'd like something serious, or something that would eventually become serious. I don't think I could trust a straight chick in a long-term relationship, or even a bi chick. No matter how happy they are, they're always on the look out for Mr Right, and when they find him they'll drop the girl they're with quicker than you can say 'gender doesn't matter.'"

The pixie slowed down again, staring at the timer in the control panel. Her words felt oddly self-conscious, as if she wasn't used to saying those things out loud, and for some reason I felt bad for her.

"Jess mentioned you've been burned a couple times," I said.

She smiled and shrugged it off. "Yeah, but it's not just that. I mean, I know what it's like to be gay, and I know how hard it can be sometimes. So when I settle down, I'd want to settle down with someone like me, someone who knows what it's like. I'd rather make _that_ person happy, you know?"

I nodded and I was breathing heavier for some reason. My mouth had gone dry and there was a strange humming in my head. Sure, I was in the middle of a rather intense workout, but that wasn't it. It was her words. I don't know why it would matter to me that she wasn't interested in straight chicks, but for some reason I thought that just really sucked.

"What about that girl you bought to the party?" I asked. "Didn't you say she was bi?"

"Leah?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling an extremely irrational stab of jealousy at the name. "Are you seeing her?"

"No," she said, chuckling and shaking her head. "Leah and I are just friends."

That made me feel a little better, which was probably as irrational as the jealousy. "Really?" I prodded, just in case. "Jess said that you and her…"

I trailed off and she gave me a glance, a coy glance with a small smirk. "Well," she said. "We're friends, but um. You know. With benefits."

My heart stopped.

Lesbian fuck-buddies.

How scandalous!

"O-oh," I said, struggling to keep my wobbly limbs from toppling off the machine. "Wow. That's awesome."

She slowed down to a stroll again, and she grinned as if it really was awesome. I was only trying not to be judgmental, but I guess it was a fairly accurate way to describe the proposition of having sex with a tall, toned, darkhaired beauty that you never had to buy flowers for.

"She's been pushing for a real relationship," the pixie said, "but I just don't think I love her like that. She's great, but…"

I nodded. I was sweating heavily by now as I continued pushing myself on the Elliptical, the backs of my thighs already beginning to burn, and I took a moment to wipe my face with the towel.

"But I have to admit, she's wearing me down," she added, with a giggle. "She can be very aggressive. What about you? Are you seeing someone?"

Ugh. As if I needed to be reminded.

"Er, kind of," I said. "I'm not sure."

"That guy you bought to the party was pretty cute," she mentioned with a smirk. "What was his name again?"

"Edward."

"Edward, that's it. You guy's looked cute together."

"Yeah, I guess," I said, not wanting to talk about it. "I'm just not sure if he's my type."

"What would you prefer?"

It was fair question, but my preferences were a little muddled right now. All my life I had preferred any man with low bodyfat and a decent haircut, and yet now, currently, every fiber of my being seemed to scream for the pixie right beside me.

So, naturally, I was a little flustered as I replied.

"Uh, I don't know," I said. "I'm not really picky, I just…"

"Just what? Come on, describe your perfect date."

"Um, I don't know," I said. "Black hair. Sexy smile. Nice ass."

I was actually thinking about the standard vampire-dude I like to write about, but my stomach tightened as I realized the pixie had all these traits too – better.

Giggling, she slowed down for the final time, breathing long and deep as she let one hand drop to her side. "Same here," she said, and gave a pointed glance at my black hair and nice ass. "Only I'd take the female version."

Gulp.

I would've loved to obliged her with a cute smile as well, but it was all I could do not to stumble as I dismounted the Elliptical. She dismounted hers as well, and we both took sips of our water. My whole body was hot and throbbing; the satisfying result of an intense workout and casual conversation with a pretty lesbian who might be into you.

"Whew," the pixie said, patting down her forehead. "I'm beat. I think I partied too hard last night, too. I didn't get home till pretty late."

I nodded. How come everybody got laid last night and I'm the only one who didn't lose sleep or feel the need to giggle about it? Oh right, because it sucked.

"Well, I'm gonna wind down with a bit of yoga," the pixie said, screwing the cap back on the water. "Do you do yoga?"

I shook my head. "Nah."

"Oh," she said, disappointed.

I was kind of disappointed, too, and I used the awkward moment of silence to glance over at the yoga mats. Plenty of them were free, and right in front of them was a row of abdominal benches, for the use of sit-ups. It occurred to me that my tummy could do with a bit of tightening, and maybe it would be nice to watch the pixie's yoga routine. But only because I was always curious about yoga. Not because I liked watching women contort their bodies into faintly erotic poses that showcased flexibility and limberness.

"Actually," I said, "I think I'll just do some abs and go home. My abs have always needed work and every little bit counts, right?"

I patted my stomach, which really wasn't as flat as I'd like, and the butterflies fluttered to life as the pixie's attention was drawn to it. I was wearing a black tanktop, leaving my midriff bare, and after looking me over frankly, top to bottom, she shrugged and gave me a little smirk.

"You look great to me," she said.

Oh boy. With the ice broken, she had become much bolder. It was easy to see how she used to have a habit of turning straight chicks; she was doing it to me and she wasn't even trying. My whole body was throbbing faintly and it was almost as if I could feel my molecules realigning into a gayer configuration.

"You haven't seen me without my clothes on," I said, unable to prevent myself from flirting back.

The pixie chuckled once, tossed her towel over her shoulder, and eyed me once more. "Maybe I'll get a peek in the showers," she said, and then she winked and sauntered away to the yoga mats.

Oh.

My.

God.

Well, that's it. I'm a lesbian. No, not really, but goddamn if I'm not freaking the fuck out. She glanced back once, smiling over her shoulder to find me rooted to the spot, and I stared back helplessly. She bent to place her water bottle beside one of the yoga mats, and I almost choked at how beautiful her ass was, how snuggly her black tights fit her contours. I tore my gaze away, blushing madly, and tottered over to the abdominal benches.

By the time had I my feet hooked under the bar, she had began her routine. I lowered myself back against the bench, staring up at the creamcolored ceiling with an odd sense of vertigo. I was so weak I didn't even know if I could pull myself up again. I tried, and somehow I managed, feeling my abdominal muscles crunch as I raised up into a sitting position. The pixie was doing a basic breathing exercise. She was laying on her back, knees up and slightly open, hands folded across her stomach. Just breathing, in and out. From where I was on the bench I could see directly between her legs, and for a moment I had the wildest impulse to run over and drop down between her thighs and—

Omigawd shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!

I lowered myself back down, not quite whimpering but close. I was hot all over and I felt almost drunk. I raised myself up again. The pixie had shifted into an exercise that stretched her whole leg, laying on her back with her leg in the air, pulling it back by the toes. I lowered myself and sat up again. She was doing the other leg. I completed three more sit-ups and on the forth all the breath rushed out of me. She was sitting up, facing me, with her legs flat on the mat and wide open. She leaned across one of them, toward her foot, and touched her toes. My stomach was heaving as I lowered myself back on the bench and for a second I just lay there, sweaty and panting. I could feel something stirring in my groin, but that was impossible. Wasn't it?

I raised myself up again, grunting under the crunch of my abs. The pixie was preparing to lean across her other leg, but she was hesitating, as if to make sure I was watching first. Her eyes flickered at mine, just for a second, and then she quickly leaned to her other foot, lowering her body across the length of her leg and hold it there. I gave a shaky breath and almost dropped back onto the bench, but I quickly raised myself up again, and again, and again, catching glimpses at the peak of each sit-up of the pixie's grace and stretchiness.

My breath was shuddering by now and something impossible was happening. I was getting very wet and it wasn't just sweat. It was scary and strange to feel these things here, in public, while looking at another woman, but I couldn't stop. I swallowed with my dry mouth, licking my dry lips, and I lowered myself backwards, exhaling as a wave of dizziness washed over me. I lifted myself up again and kept going, letting my abs crunch and letting the sensations stir in my belly. The pixie had flipped over and now she was laying on her stomach, hands placed flat on the mat as she craned her torso upwards to stretch her spine.

Our eyes met at the top of my sit-up and for a frozen moment we stared. Her huge and beautiful eyes blinked at me and her soft pink lips were parted just slightly, as if to beg for a kiss. I lowered myself and hauled myself up again with an actual whimper, finding her holding the stretch, flat on her tummy with her chest preened and craned upwards. She met my eyes at the apex of each sit-up, and I kept going, and going, and—

I came.

A strangled little noise came out of me and I came, flopping back down on the bench with my chest heaving and strands of my dark hair stuck to my sweaty face. I touched the back of a wrist to my forehead, feeling how hot it was, and for a moment I did nothing but pant up at the ceiling. I couldn't believe it. Last night I had had sex with a guy who was legitimately one of the most desirable men in the world according to many magazines, and he had barely managed to eke even a mildest orgasm out of me. Fair enough. I hadn't been very much in the mood and I wasn't a sexual person. No man had ever really made a lasting impact on me. And yet here I was, the very next morning, knocked flat on my ass by this impossibly pretty little pixie who had quite literally made me climax with a stare.

Hol-lee fuck.

I didn't know what to think, but now wasn't the time for deep reflections. I had to get out of here, away from the drone of exercise machines and that jaunty dancetrack in the background. I had to go somewhere where I could calm down and think and, um, change my underwear. So I disengaged myself from the abdominal bench and stood up, almost falling over from how wobbly my legs were. The pixie had moved on to another stretch, and she was facing away toward the windows. A nice person would've at least said goodbye, but I didn't even think about it. I had never felt so panicked like this in my life, and it wasn't just because she was a girl. These feelings were just way to intense, and even if she was a guy, it would've been impossible not to feel just a little miffed at such a brutal hijacking of my hormones.

So I fled to the locker room, leaving my towel and water bottle behind. I glanced back once, and my heart broke slightly to see that she had abandoned her yoga and was sitting up on the mat, looking about to see where I had gone. But she didn't see me, and I managed to duck into the locker room without being noticed.

I went straight to my locker and grabbed my things, stuffing it all into the gym bag, deciding on the spot to never come here again. The orgasm was still ebbing through my body, and needless to say, I was quite humiliated. I mean, really. In public, too. I was sweaty enough to warrant a shower, but getting naked within the purview of other women—and possibly a pixie—was not something I wanted to do right now. So I just threw on a pair of pants and a t-shirt over my gym clothes, just so I wouldn't look stupid walking home, and then I shrugged the bag over my shoulder and went to leave.

I had almost made it to the exit, but of course, I bumped into the pixie. I mean, we already know fate hates me, don't we?

Unfortunately, I literally bumped into her. I was hustling along with my head down and she turned the corner. We didn't collide, but we did touch, and the touch almost sent me into a paroxysm of terror. Only my finally honed sense of womanly composure kept me from flinging myself into the lockerbank and scrabbling madly at the steel like a crazed goat.

"Oh," she said, giggling as she stumbled back. "There you are. Headed home already? Listen, before you go, I was wondering if—"

"I'm sorry," I cut her off, shaking my head and almost hyperventilating. "I…"

But I couldn't think of any excuse, and so, with a hammering heart and damp panties, I pushed past the beguiling pixie and hauled ass the fuck out of there.

—

Chapter 10: Realization

—

I was in a terrible state as I drove home, but I felt a bit better by the time I had a nice, hot, purifying shower. Scrubbing away the evidence didn't solve the problem, of course, but it was a start. It was certainly easier to convince myself I was still straight without that musky scent wafting up from my lap.

The rest of the day wasn't very exciting. Jess hadn't been home from the gym, or if she had, she had left again. Shame. I would've liked to kill her with an axe for how she had been fucking with my life lately. But maybe I was overreacting. It wasn't Jess's fault my body had reacted so violently to nothing more erotic than an amateur yoga routine. Good thing I hadn't stuck around to see her in the showers – I might've died.

I took a deep sigh and stared at the empty screen of my laptop. I was two chapters into a new novel I was working on, but I hadn't managed to write more than a couple sentences all day. I couldn't focus. My mind kept drifting back to the incident this morning, each time with increasing wonder. I seriously had not realized such a thing was possible, and since I was getting nowhere with my book, I decided to google it and check if it was a common thing or if I should make an appointment with a gynecologist. Spontaneous orgasms sounded almost serious.

But a quick ten minutes of research revealed it was no big deal. Uncommon, but it happens, generally during ab exercises. It wasn't a very scientific article, but there were a few statistics from their surveys that grabbed my attention. Mostly the statistic where they claimed that only sixty percent of the women questioned were heterosexual. Which would indicate that forty percent of women who experience an orgasm while working out are gay or bi. It seemed like a high percentage, given the fact that the vast majority of the female population is straight. Even more worrisome was the fact that this fascinating internet article on the mysteries of female orgasm seemed to be suggesting that there was a forty percent chance I was gay or bi, too.

After all, I did indeed achieve climax on a weight bench – with abdominal exercises, as well. And it couldn't have been a coincidence that my hormones had been provoked before hand by a certain pixie, and even less of a coincidence that I had been watching the very same girl when it happened. Butterflies stirred in my stomach as I thought about it.

So, am I gay? It wasn't the simplest question I ever asked myself. I sat back on my swivelchair and tapped the mouse with my fingertip. Lesbian, huh? Me? No, no, surely not. And yet…

Well, would it be so awful? I mean, it's not like I have a husband or a boyfriend to worry about. Angela would be cool about it, if I was serious, and Jess would just be happy she was right. My mother would probably ask me to attend an orientation realignment at her local church, but that was no big deal. I loved my mom, but I was well aware of what a shallow and old-fashioned person she could be, and her opinions on me and my life weren't things I respected or valued. And then there was just my dad, who would still love me to bits even if I turned out to be a crack addict – which was somewhat of a pun considering the common method of how girls had sex.

But what about me, how did I feel about this? I wasn't homophobic, but deep down I did believe women were supposed to be with men and vice versa. It was common sense, and it was less likely to get you pointed at in the streets. And what about family and marriage? Did I want a family someday? Well, sure. But in all honesty, I never did have any great urge to spawn my progeny personally. I did when I was a kid, but not since I had learnt that the baby had to be somehow removed from your body, either with extreme pain or heavy medication. Adoption seemed like an elegant choice in comparison. And marriage, meh. Same-sex ceremonies were legal in Washington as far as I knew, so that wasn't really a concern.

And sex? Well. I'd been having sex with men for eighteen years and never once did I experience anything as powerful as what happened this morning – and she hadn't even touched me. So, no, I probably wouldn't morn too long over the lack of a penis in my life.

A frown began to furrow my brow as I realized that I really had no cause to be so deep in denial. In many ways, this should've been exciting for me, to learn things about myself, to figure out the true me. But I wasn't convinced. Angela's phone call was still fresh in my mind, and while most of her advice was carefully calculated to get me in bed with her boss so that I could feed her details, there were a few things she might've been right about. After all, what if it's a phase? What if it's just this one girl who drives me crazy? What if it's a passing infatuation and nothing more?

After all, I'd never been attracted to any other woman. But just to be sure, I spent a moment or two thinking about Jess. I tried picturing her naked and got no further than a grimace. She was practically a sister to me and I hated the bitch right now. So then I tried Angela. But that didn't lead to any great revelations. Angela was a decent looking woman with a decent looking body, but we were too close. Again, almost sisters. It was weird to think of her that way.

I sighed and swiveled around to look at my blu-ray shelf, trying to remember if I had any movies that contained a lesbian scene that I could review for hotness. But then I remembered that I still had google open on my laptop. The thought made me pause. Google was one of most powerful search engines in the world and it was a well-known fact that the internet was full of pornography, much of it free and of a lesbian variety. Surely a brief image-search would yield more than enough material to force myself into moment of a self-realization, one way or another. And since it was research, why, it would hardly be disgusting of me at all.

Still, I hesitated for quite a long moment before finally tapping in that horrible l-word and hitting enter. The thumbnail gallery that popped up cause me to stop breathing. My first thought was that those women should be ashamed of themselves. My second more prominent thought was:

 _Fuck that's hot._

It really was. Even just glancing at the miniatures was enough to make my heart skip a few beats in excitement. I'd never seen a graphic photograph of naked blondes in lingerie and full makeup pretending to go down on each other, so I have no idea if I would've found it hot two months ago, or even two weeks. But regardless, something did seem to have awakened inside me, because heat was rising in my cheeks and I seemed unable to look away.

So I clicked on one. Purely for research, of course. I don't agree with pornography and I certainly didn't condone how these women were fetishizing themselves for male enjoyment – and mine. It was wrong, terribly wrong, and yet – really, really hot.

The picture I had clicked on was rather tame in comparison to all the others. It featured a blonde and a brunette, scantily clad in red and black lace, sharing an erotic kiss. You could almost hear them moaning. The brunette's breasts were exposed, but the sexiest thing was how the blonde was cupping her neck. I couldn't describe the impression it made on me or why I found that subtle touch so fascinating. Slim fingers on a slender neck. How smooth it must've felt. It was so odd, so strange, so fucking _exotic_. Two women, kissing. Their tongues touching. I stared, letting the sensations wash over me as the butterflies swirled and circled in my stomach. It was incredible.

And suddenly I was horny. Which didn't really come as a shock, honestly. I clicked through a few more images, shaking my head at both myself and at what some women would do for money. But mostly at myself. It seemed my orientation crisis was now officially an orientation crisis. How terrible. It would've been so much easier to dismiss and ignore if it was only the one girl.

In any case, I wanted to be thorough, so I did a quick search for regular porn and gay male as well. But I wasn't particularly surprised when the sight of naked men did nothing but make me cringe. Really – it wasn't a great look for them. The straight stuff was outright disgusting—borderline misogynistic—and the gay stuff was just awkward. They were just so lumpy and simian. They looked like they were trying too hard to be sexy, which really didn't come naturally to a man – even a gay one.

So I closed all the windows and sat back in my chair with an unhappy flush and a growing sense of doom. But before shaving my head and joining a rugby league, I decided I might as well give it a couple days and see if it's not a phase after all.

—

Chapter 11: Meddling

—

I had skipped lunch that day and even by dinner my appetite hadn't returned. Statistically speaking, lesbians tend to be overweight—like the vast majority of the rest of America—but if they all felt the way I feel, it's wonder they're not all anorexic. Realization was rolling in my stomach like an egg and I really didn't feel like eating – that is, until Jess came over with Chinese food.

"Hey," she said, popping through the door like a character in a sitcom. "You eaten yet? I got Chinese!"

Jess often came over for dinner. We had no set routine, since she'd bail on me in a heartbeat if she had a date, but we usually ate together several nights a week. Sometimes I cooked, sometimes Jess bought. I was still mad at her for shooting a lesbian-tipped arrow in my ass like a stupid cupid, but I loved Chinese food. If there was anything I'd be able to eat in my time of crisis it was Chinese food.

So I allowed her into the apartment and fetched some plates and forks. Jess made an attempt with chopsticks as usual and as usual she failed horribly, spilling rice on her lap and on my couch. We were eating at the coffeetable and watching a sitcom on TV, and I didn't know what was more obnoxious; the laugh track on the show or the laugh track from the blonde beside me. I wasn't laughing. I was sitting there sullenly, nursing a box of lamb satay. I wish I could've been carefree enough to screw up my bestfriend's life and then sit on her couch and laugh at toilet humor on free TV, but I wasn't. I was frowning at one of the actresses and belligerently admitting to myself that I found her attractive. She had dark hair and she was kind of short and plucky. She reminded me of a certain pixie, but such reminders were bad for my appetite, so I pushed it out of my mind and focused on the satay. It was a shame how delicious it was. It deserved better than to be eaten with such little gusto.

"Mmmm," Jess said, with a full mouth to get my attention. "Wanna split the last dumpling?"

She was pointing at it with her fork, but I had no desire to break bread with my enemy; even when she claims to be my BFF. So I shook my head.

"You have it," I muttered.

She lit up. "You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," I said. "I don't care."

She smiled, all oblivious to my foul mood, and stabbed it up and stuck it in her mouth, moaning as if it somehow made it taste better. "Mmm," she said, trying to swallow. "Speaking of dumplings, how'd it go with Alice at the gym after I left? Did you work out together?"

Butterflies fluttered up in my stomach. Well, there goes the last shreds of my appetite. I shrugged and stuck the fork into the box. "Not much," I said, setting the box on the table. "We did a bit on the ellipticals, and then she, uh…" I had to clear my throat to even say it. "…done a bit of yoga."

Jess nodded, grinning as she munched the dumpling. "Oh yeah, I've seen her do yoga," she said. "She's so fucking flexible, isn't she? I bet she's amazing in bed. She's got that vibe."

"What vibe?"

"You know, that vibe. The vibe that makes you think she really likes it. Some girls are like that. You kind of got a vibe, too."

"I do?" I asked skeptically.

"Uh huh, only your vibe's a little different," she explained. "Your vibe is more like you haven't been laid in a long time and really _need_ it. Her vibe is that she _wants_ it. Yours is little sexier, I think, but only a little."

I guess I could see Jess's point. I had always had a bitchy and stuckup demeanor that guys seemed to respond to like a challenge, as if they had something to prove against me. Jake was a good example; the poor boy had worn himself out trying to please me when we were dating – with somewhat lackluster results, too. Not just him, either. No man had ever really pleased me. Like, not ever.

Thinking back, it seemed almost silly that I had never considered the possibility of being gay. I knew that I enjoyed men far less than all my friends, but I just figured I wasn't a bimbo. And yet now, after climaxing at the gym under the pretty gaze of a perfect pixie, it seemed likely that perhaps I was simply a bimbo of a different type. Still, I had little faith in Jess's vibe-related wisdom, so rather than confide all this to my supposed BFF, I decided to mock her instead.

"You've got a vibe yourself," I said.

"Really?" she grinned. "What's my vibe?"

"Severe mental retardation."

She narrowed her eyes at me. She had a noodle dangling from her mouth, and her expression made me wonder if maybe I wasn't joking.

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"Basically."

Jess giggled and speared up some more noodles. "God, what a bitch," she said. "You really do need to get laid. And anyway, stupid isn't always stupid. Sometimes stupid is sexy."

I shrugged at the TV, allowing she may be right. "I suppose some guys might like it," she said. "Guys who like girls who are too dumb to know any better, or dumb enough to do it with anyone, or dumb enough to do things a smart girl wouldn't."

"Yeah, I guess I could see that," Jess said, nodding. "But I wouldn't say it's because I'm stupid. It's more like I'm naïve. And drunk, most of the time."

I shook my head, but with a faint smile. One of the things I liked about Jess was that I could say almost anything I wanted to her without worrying about hurting her feelings. On the surface, she was just a trashy blonde, but deep down there was a mature and affectionate young woman somewhere in there.

"So nothing happened with Alice?" she asked, steering the conversation back to her matchmaking initiative. "Did you talk to her, or did you just leer at her ass all day?"

She grinned, and I remembered how she had caught me checking the other girl out. My brow furrowed and I immediately went defensive. "We just chatted," I said, "and why the fuck did you leave me alone with her anyway? I mean, what was the point? Did you really think something would happen?"

"Hey, you were the one checking her out," Jess said, waving her fork innocently. "I was just getting out the way."

"I wasn't checking her out."

"Oh please."

"I wasn't."

Jess giggled and grinned. "Jeez, why can't you admit it?" she asked. "Come on, Bella, it's nothing to be ashamed about. I check her out all the time. Hell, I made out with her once."

It was like she had thrown a bucket of cold water over me.

Made out.

With Alice.

The words clanged in my head as if I couldn't quite understand them. She had said it very casually as she sorted out a certain vegetable with her fork, but it wasn't the fact that Jess had kissed a girl that shocked me. Jess was an open-minded and slightly slutty kind of girl, and she was no stranger to an occasional lesbian experience. But this was the pixie she was talking about. Jess had kissed the pixie. Jealousy froze in my veins and I was quite shocked at how I felt capable of slapping her for making out with the girl I was secretly and completely falling for.

"What?" I said.

"Yeah," she chuckled. "I went with her to one of those bars once—you know a girl-bar? Just to hang out. It was pretty cool, lots of hot chicks. I got hit on so many times, but you know, I'm not like that, so I was just hanging with Alice and that girl Leah. We had some drinks and stuff, but then Leah bumped into this chick she knew and went home with her. After that it was just me and Alice, and we got kind of drunk. She was teasing me about how she can tell I'm into her—which I totally was—and then she's like maybe I should try it, maybe I'll like it, maybe I'm gay and I don't realize it. So I told her I _have_ tried it before but I still prefer guys, and she's like: 'Then you haven't done it with me.'"

Jess paused in the story to giggle brightly. It was a little disconcerting. Such a bright giggle – she didn't giggle like that when she told stories about Mike.

"Isn't that incredible?" she went on. "She keeps saying how she's off straight chicks, but I guess she can't help herself, especially after a few drinks. I was wearing jeans that night, and when she said it, she actually put her hand on my leg and kind of caressed me, staring into my eyes and shit. I mean, I'm a pretty easy girl, but even if I wasn't, I would've been helpless. So, I'm like; 'Okay,' and then we started making out right there at the table. I'm such a skank. But it was okay, because there were other girls doing it, too."

I stared at her. The sitcom burst out laughing in the background.

"Did you like it?" I asked.

Jess had finished eating and she was wiping her grin with a napkin. "Fuck yeah," she said. "I would've went home with her, but then Mike called wondering where I was, and I'm like: 'oh shit, I got a boyfriend.' I completely forgot. But don't tell him, okay? He wouldn't understand."

"Wouldn't understand what?" I said. "That you cheated on him?"

Jess snorted. "It's not cheating."

I raised an eyebrow. "It's not?"

"No way," she said, as if anybody with half a brain would know that. "She's a chick. That's not cheating. Plus, it was only a kiss. And I was drunk. I mean, I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't drunk."

I shook my head, crossing my arms and putting my feet on the coffeetable. "Yeah, well," I said. "You shouldn't be dating a guy like Mike anyway."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I glanced at her. Jess was like an annoying little sister to me, and I hated seeing her date a troll like Mike. But I also knew that her boyfriend's shortcomings were one of the few things she could be sensitive about. She was the kind of girl who believed any guy she dated was perfect on the basis that she was dating him, and anybody who said otherwise was simply jealous. So I decided to tread carefully.

"I don't know," I said vaguely. "He doesn't seem to respect you very much, that's all."

Jess frowned. "What do you mean?" she repeated, a little more firmly this time, and I had to sigh.

"Nothing," I said, waving a hand. "Forget it, I'm just jealous."

She held her frown for a moment, as if deep down she suspected I might be right, and then she quickly redirected the conversation back to the original point.

"Well, what about Alice?" she said. "Did you want her number? You better move fast if you wanna grab her up before that Leah chick makes a move. She's not going to be single forever."

"Why are you so convinced I'll like her?" I asked, shooting her a glare. It seemed like a valid question to me. Jess had tried setting me up with guys, friends of hers, but she had never tried this hard.

Jess gave me a knowing smirk. "Come on, Bella," she said. "I was suspicious before, but now? Pfft. I saw the way you were looking at her. You don't look at guys like that."

I didn't answer, I just sat there with my arms crossed. She grabbed up the fortune cookies from the coffeetable.

"Fortune cookie?" she offered.

I glared at her.

"I'll open yours," she said, and snapped it open. She stuffed the whole cookie in her mouth and unfurled the little scroll of wisdom inside it. "Okay, let's see what fortune you got," she said, spraying cookie crumbs. "'A smile opens many doors.' Jeez, that's lame. I open doors just by knocking. Sometimes I don't even knock, I just open them. Here, let me give you a proper fortune."

I kept a notepad and a biro on the sidetable that I used to jot down story ideas. Jess leaned over me and grabbed the pen, and then she leaned on the coffeetable and scribbled a custom fortune on the little piece of paper.

"There you go," she said, handing it to me. "A real fortune."

I huffed out a breath and took a look at what she had written.

 _YOU ARE SO GAY._

I turned a dry glare onto the blonde Confucius on the couch beside me. She was grinning radiantly, supremely proud of her wit and insight. I screwed the note into a little ball.

"Fuck you, Jess," I said, and threw it at her face.

It bounced off her nose. I rose from the couch and started clearing away the takeout boxes.

"Oh, come on," she said, jumping to her feet and trailing me into the kitchen – not offering to help clean up. "You gotta admit, Bella, it makes sense. You don't like guys, you're crazy over this chick. I've got great gaydar. Even before I met Alice, I took one look at her, and I thought: Yep. Total lezbo. And you? You always had a strong lezzy vibe."

I groaned – I guess the word 'vibe' was her favorite word today.

"A lezzy vibe?"

"Sure," she said. "I mean, when's the last time you wore a dress?"

"Last night."

"Oh," Jess said, remembering that I had indeed worn a dress to the party – a lace and ruffle evening gown with belled skirts, no less. But logic was never a useful argument against a girl like Jess. "Before that, then," she countered.

I shook my head, dumping the boxes into the trash.

"Come on," Jess persisted. "Just give her a chance, okay? You've seen how perfect she is and I know she really likes you. Seriously. I can tell. Come on, give her a shot. You'll love her, I promise."

I turned to Jess and put my hands on my hips. I'll admit I was weakening. I had no desire to label myself or tattoo a rainbow on my forehead, but Jess was making a strange amount of sense. Gay or not, I did like the pixie. Alice. In fact, it was more than just 'like.' I was crazy about her. She was the most loveliest woman I could ever imagine, and part of me was absolutely certain it would be the biggest regret of my life if I didn't at least try. I had never believed in any mystical or supernatural definition of love, but if there really was an element of magic to it, it was happening now. Even just the thought of a single date with such a perfect girl filled me with a longing and excitement I had never known.

I really had no choice. My heart demanded I at least get the number, but that didn't mean I had to be happy about it, so hesitated. Jess was watching me eagerly, knowing that I was about to cave in. I was wiping my hands with a dishtowel, working up the courage to not only admit that I was into a girl, but that Jess was right, too. Maybe that was worse. But as I said, I really had no choice, so I sighed, tossed the towel onto the sink, and—

The phone rang.

Jess groaned and rolled her eyes, and I admit I was a little annoyed, too. Why do people always call when you're about to swallow your pride and admit you might be a lesbian? People are so inconsiderate. I grabbed up the phone and snapped:

"Yeah?"

"Hi, it's me," said a male voice. "Edward, from last night."

Fuck. That's so typical.

"Bad time?" he asked, thrown off perhaps by my curtness and lack of response.

"Um," I said, my mind taking a second to catch up. I was so caught off-guard that I was startled into politeness. "Uh, no," I said. "Not a bad time at all. I was just finished eating."

Jess tossed her chin at the phone. "Who is it?"

"It's Edward," I said, putting my hand over the mouth piece. "The guy from the party."

Edward must've heard me anyway. "Oh," she said. "Do you have company? Do want me to call back?"

"No, no, it's just my neighbor," I said, turning away from Jess. "So, uh. It's good to hear from you," I said, mostly because I had absolutely no clue what to say to him. Before my crisis I would've been quite capable of explaining that I frankly didn't care if I never heard from him again, but now I wasn't sure if that was how I really felt or if I was just confused. So I chuckled and added: "I've been waiting by the phone all day."

Jess groaned from behind me and circled around to my front so she could see my face.

"Well, I just wanted to call and say hi," Edward said, playing it casual. "I had a great time, last night. It was the most fun I had a long time."

Again, I had no clue how to respond but to pretend I liked him, just in case I actually did and didn't realize. "Me too," I said.

Jess was frowning at me quizzically. "You too, what?" she demanded, but instead of waiting for an answer, she ran to my bedroom and came back with another phone so she could listen in. I made a frantic motion with my hand, as if to tell her to fuck off, but she shook her head.

"To be honest, I wasn't sure how soon I could call," Edward said. "I've been thinking about you all day. I really had a lot of fun last night. It's been a long time since I felt this way about a girl."

I cringed. By having sex with him I think I might've given him the wrong impression. Why are a pair of nice boobs so much more effective against guys than a pair of nice eyes?

I still had no idea what to say, but he was a sweet guy. I didn't want to be mean, which meant I probably shouldn't tell him that I'd only been using his penis in a preemptive strike against my budding lesbian tendencies – an endeavor which had failed miserably. So I just said:

"Me too."

Jess gave me a skeptical look. She had watched me at the party, and she knew I'd paid more attention to the pixie than my actual date. What she didn't know was that he was probably talking about the sex, not the date, and suddenly I had the sinking feeling he was about to clarify.

"I don't usually go so fast in a relationship," he said. "But uh…" He gave a throaty chuckle. "I don't usually say no, either."

Jess's mouth fell open; I had sex and I didn't report it. Was there any greater betrayal of trust between BFF's?

"So, I was wondering if we could get together sometime," Edward went on. "Maybe tomorrow for lunch? Or dinner? There's a great place I could take you to, best French food in the city. What do you think? I'd just really love to see you."

"Uh, sure," I said, hardly even aware of what I was saying. "That sounds great."

Jess rolled her eyes so elaborately she almost stumbled into the fridge.

"Great," he said, a smile in his voice. "So I'll pick you up tomorrow night?"

"Wait a sec," Jess suddenly blurted into the other phone. "Can I come too? We'll make it a double date."

" _Jess_ ," I hissed, acutely embarrassed that some guy I didn't like now knew that I'd been letting someone listen in on a private conversation.

But he took it in stride, even chuckling awkwardly. "Uh, hi," he said. "Who's this?"

"Hi, this is Bella's bestfriend Jess," said Bella's bestfriend Jess. "So what do you think? My boyfriend sucks at finding decent places to eat. But does it have to be French food? I don't wanna eat frogs. Why don't we go for Italian, that way everyone's happy?"

"Um, sure," he said. "That sounds like fun."

"Great!" Jess chirped. "And sorry for listening in on the other line. I gotta look out for Bella, you know? She sucks at relationships. Did she really put out on the first date?"

"Get the fuck off the phone, Jess," I growled. " _Now_."

Jess giggled and held the phone away from herself innocently. I shook my head and exhaled a breath.

"I better go too," I said to Edward. "Thanks for calling."

"My pleasure," he said. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you."

"Me too," I said, and hung up.

Jess was grinning at me with her hands on her hips. I glared at her, likewise with my hands on my hips. Her grin tilted up into a smirk.

"I wanna see with my own eyes how much you like this guy," she said. "But for the record? I still think you're totally lezzy."

—

Chapter 12: Double Date

—

The reservations were made at a place called _Il Terrazzo Carmine_ , which was unmistakably Italian if nothing else. Edward had picked the place, and considering our last outing together I suppose his judgment could be relied upon for good food, excellent service, and hellish prices. He had called me that very morning, and we had sorted out the particulars over the phone, deciding that I should meet him there with Jess and Mike. He seemed excited to see me in his smooth gentleman-like way, and I almost felt sorry for the chump.

But Bella Swan wasn't the kind of girl to renege on her commitments, so rather than feign flu—it was almost winter time—I trudged into the shower and threw on a dress, thinking how silly Jess's suspicions were. I don't often wear a dress, but who does? Jess herself favors pants more often than not. Does that make her gay? Of course not. Then again, she probably wasn't tempted to rub one out in the shower with thoughts of another woman before a big date with a guy, which probably changed the equation a little bit.

In any case, outside the privacy of my own home I did like to look my best, so I opted for something black and casual, short with spaghetti straps. I added a pair of black pumps to the ensemble and a touch of makeup, and then I posed in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom. I looked quite hot, but for some reason I wasn't filled with a warm glow of personal satisfaction. I smoothed the dress against my body with my hands and frowned slightly. Because I think Jess might be right; I did have a kind of lezzy vibe. My reflection looked like an oilpainting of Sappho herself, for god's sake. Sappho probably hadn't worn heels when she was running around ancient Greece seducing all the girls, but she did have long dark hair and a killer body. She was a writer, too. A far greater writer, but still.

It was a very interesting subtext, and I indulged it for a few moments. But time was ticking away and a very wealthy and handsome man was awaiting the pleasure of my company, so I bid farewell both to my reflection and lesbian introspections, grabbed up my phone and purse, and hurried out the apartment.

Jess and I arrived at the restaurant with Mike in tow, Jess in a pink dress and Mike in probably the only suit he ever owned. The front of the building featured an array of attractive foliage, flowers and ferns, with several tables arranged on the terrace under awnings. The inside was warm and warmly lit, with a rich scent of Italian food and a low din of conversation. Edward was already at the table and he noticed us as we came in, rising from his chair and lifting a hand. He was wearing a dark suit with a silk shirt, no tie, and he was every bit as good looking as I remembered. I should've felt something as our eyes met, a spark or a flicker, but no. Nothing. Just a grumpy stirring of butterflies in my stomach and an unhappy certainty that men—or at least this man—didn't really do it for me.

Jess was the only one who waved back, and then she grinned and leaned to me, speaking quietly so that Mike wouldn't hear. "Well, he _is_ cute," she said. "Hey, if you hook up with Alice, can I have him?"

I gave her a dry look. Mike was talking to the hostess—leering at the poor woman—and then she came over and led us to the table.

Edward was standing when we arrived and he presented me with a bright smile as he looked me over. "Wow," he said. "You look incredible."

"Thanks," I said, and he sounded like he meant it, so I blushed. I was quite vain, and I liked it when people told me I looked good, especially when they did it with the true feeling of a compliment. He then leaned forward and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. I suppose that was natural for a second date, but the gesture made me feel oddly like his grandmother, and I chuckled awkwardly. Jess gave me a smirk as I pulled away subtly, and Edward turned his smile to her.

"And you must be Bella's bestfriend Jess," he said. "We met at your party, I think."

"Yep, that's me," Jess said, and gestured at Mike. "This is my boyfriend, Mike."

Mike grinned and took a hand out of his pocket for a hand shake. "Where's your crown, dude?"

Edward was still smiling as he shook Mike's hand but I got the feeling he didn't like the cockroach that much. Good judgment. Anybody who likes Mike is a fucking idiot – like Jess.

"I don't wear it in public all that much," he said. "Come on, let's sit down. I've already ordered wine, I hope that's alright. Do you like merlot?"

"I _adore_ merlot," Jess claimed, although I had my doubts that she even knew what a merlot was. She was more a Mai Tai, Banana Daiquiri, half-price-tequila-shots-on-a-Wednesday-night kind of girl.

"Merlot's fine," I said, and I went to sit down. The chairs were wooden with floral upholstery, and Edward pulled one out for me and shuffled it forward as I sat, a quaint gesture that I rewarded with a smile. Jess grinned at Mike, expecting him to do the same, but he only snorted at the display, sat down, and grabbed a breadstick. Jess was disappointed and now it was my turn to smirk; I might be gay, but I'm not dating a jerk.

A waiter arrived soon after with menus, and Jess began badgering Edward about what was good, cheap, and low in calories. She made an adorable fool of herself by deliberately mispronouncing the names of dishes and then she'd giggle when Edward corrected her in perfect Italian. Finally she settled on a _Linguine Alle Vongole_ , because she thought the word _Linguine_ was cute, especially how Edward said it. I had to admit it did sound tempting the way it rolled off his tongue, but I opted for a seafood rigatoni instead.

It had clams in it, and after it arrived I had to wonder if clams had a subtext as well. The cleft-like shape recalled me of a certain area of the female anatomy that one might also eat. In any case, it was too late to change my order to a plate of sausages with a side of bananas. The clams were probably tastier, anyway.

Conversation was mostly carried by Jess and Edward, who shared a surprising synergy. Jess was never one to waste an opportunity of blabbing her mouth off to a cute guy, even with her boyfriend right beside her, and Edward did a fantastic job at pretending to be interested while encouraging her to blab even more. She was on her third glass of wine and complaining it wasn't making her drunk, which was strange, because she was certainly acting like it.

"Mmm, this is so delicious," she said, stabbing at her _linguine_ with her fork. "Not as good as Bella's, though. You know she's an amazing cook? You gotta invite him over for dinner sometime, Bella. Seriously, her cooking will blow your mind."

Edward looked at me with hope of romantically home cooked meal written on his face, and I shook my head awkwardly. "I'm not really that good," I said, wondering why the hell Jess was trying to secure me another date when she was so adamant about setting me up with her pixie-friend.

"Yes, you are!" Jess insisted, and then grinned at Edward. "She's awesome, really. Do you cook, Edward?"

"Actually, yes," he said, "my mother taught me when I was younger."

"Really?" Jess gushed. "Wow, I love guys that cook."

"Pfft," Mike snorted. "Men don't cook. That's for chicks," he said, and chuckled. "Like laundry and shit."

Jess giggled, perhaps mistaking his chauvinistic repulsiveness for humor, and I glared at him across the table.

"You're a fucking idiot, Mike," I said.

He grinned, and the motherfucker really ought to learn how to wipe his mouth. Jess smiled and swatted me with a cloth napkin.

"Oh, he's only joking," she said.

"No, he's only stupid," I said.

Jess frowned at me. "Bella."

"Jess," I said, mocking her tone. I was pissed at her for hyping me up to Edward, and I was in no mood to take it easy on the disgusting insect she was dating.

But before it could devolve into a catfight, she turned to Edward. "So," she said brightly, "Bella says you're some kind of millionaire?"

He nodded with a modest smile. "Something like that, yes."

"Wow, that must be awesome," she said. "Do you have, like, a yacht and stuff?"

"My dad has a fifty foot cabin cruiser at Elliot Bay. It's called the _Escape_."

"Wow, cool name. Does he let you use it?"

"Sure."

"Awesome," she said, and shot me a smirk quickly. "Hey, you know what you should do? You should take Bella out on it sometime, like on the weekend or something. She loves boats and she looks _amazing_ in a bikini. Do they have sunlight in the ocean? You don't get a lot in the city."

Edward smiled at me, obviously very open to the suggestion. "Well, we could keep an eye out for warm weather."

Jess's tactics were becoming clearer. She was forcing me into a position of reluctance where I would have to audibly refuse him. Crafty bitch. So I focused my hesitation on the rigatoni and shrugged.

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know," I said. "I don't really like boats."

He gave a quirky smile, as if he didn't understand. "I thought you loved them," he said, glancing at Jess.

"She does!"

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No," I said, through gritted teeth. "I don't."

Jess met my angry stare for a second, then turned her grin to Edward. "She loves boats, she's just being silly," she told him. "Her dad had a boat too, but it was a really small one. She used to love to go fishing with him when she was younger. You should take her fishing sometime."

"I hate fishing," I blurted, "what the fuck are you talking about?"

"You said you loved it!"

"I said I hated it. I used to dread those fishing trips." Edward had raised an eyebrow so I gave him an explanation. "One time my dad caught a squid that died on the deck and spread ink everywhere. Fucking traumatized me. I used to have nightmares."

He was refilling his wine glass and noticed mine was empty as well. He gestured with the bottle as I spoke and I nodded for him to fill it. Why not? Alcohol might weaken me against his manly charm.

"Well, maybe we could just go for a cruise sometime," he suggested. "I could have the boat gassed up and cleaned, all ready for the weekend. The ocean's beautiful around Seattle."

"Wow, that sounds like so much fun," Jess said enthusiastically. "You're so lucky to have such a great guy, Bella."

I bit my tongue and nodded at my plate. I didn't want to go sailing. I wanted to stab Jess with my dinner fork. Edward was waiting for a comment of some kind, so I gave a non-committal shrug. "Um, yeah, sure, maybe," I said. "Call me, we'll talk about it."

"Bella, you gonna eat those shrimps?" Jess asked, pointing at my plate with her fork. "Can I have em?"

Jess and I were liberal diners and we often made trades during lunch or dinner. Tonight, however, I wouldn't have offered her a kidney to save her life. So I tossed my chin at Mike and said:

"You got a shrimp right there."

"Hey," Mike said. "I work out."

I glared at him and very deliberately I said: "Fuck you, Mike."

Mike smirked, surprised and slightly turned on perhaps. Jess giggled.

"Jeez, you're in a weird mood tonight, aren't you?" she said, and turned to Edward. "She's not usually like this. Usually she's very sweet and soft spoken."

"Fuck you too, Jess," I said, and Edward chuckled.

Dinner continued after the conversation settled and we even had dessert. Jess made Edward pronounce the word _gelato_ in Italian at least three times and giggled until he became embarrassed. I started hinting that it was getting late as soon as the dessert was over, and Edward seemed grateful. Jess's ceaseless monologue had taken a toll on him, and even though he had made the most of the double-date, he obviously would've preferred a romantic dinner for two. Frankly, I would've preferred that, too. It would've been easier to make it clear I wasn't interested in him without Jess shoving date ideas down our throats like _fettuccine_.

Finally it was time to say goodnight. Jess kissed my cheeks on the sidewalk outside and I kissed her back grudgingly. I wasn't happy with how she had acted over dinner, and I was far from thrilled at how her lips felt more comfortable than my date's.

"What the fuck were you doing in there, Jess?" I hissed quietly so no one could hear. "I thought you were going to try and sabotage me?"

"I was," she said, and giggled. "But it was so much more fun to watch you squirm. You gonna go home with him?"

The question made the butterflies flutter in distress, and I shared their reluctance. But there was a principle at stake here, and I really didn't want to admit Jess might be right about me.

"I don't know," I said stubbornly. "Maybe I will."

Jess rolled her eyes. "Come on, Bella, stop lying to yourself," she said. "I gave you a million ways to demonstrate how much you like him and you balked every time. Just admit you want Alice's number, that's all I'm asking."

The butterflies flared again, this time in excitement, but I didn't answer.

"Yo, babe," Mike called from his car. "Hurry up, let's go."

I glared at the interruption, even though an interruption was exactly what I needed. "You shouldn't let him talk to you like that," I said to Jess.

"Talk to me like what?" she asked, no clue what I was talking about.

I just shook my head. "Nothing," I muttered. "Have fun."

"Yeah," she giggled, walking backwards. "You too."

She got in Mike's car and they pulled out into the street. I watched them go, frowning, and Edward appeared at my side as we waited for the valet to bring around his car. It was the first time we had been alone all night and I had no idea how I was supposed to act. Was this guy my boyfriend? Three dates and a single sexual episode. Did that qualify as a relationship? And if so, what were we supposed to do now? Go for a walk? Catch a movie? Have sex again and hope for the best?

I didn't know, and I didn't offer any suggestions, I just gave him a quick smile and glanced down the street for my car. He glanced in the same direction, as if to check how much time he had left with me, and turned back to me with a smile.

"So," he said. "I guess this is goodnight."

I had my coat wrapped around me and my purse in my hands. I nodded at his observation and gave him a mechanical smile. "Guess so."

"I had a great time," he said, and I was happy one of us did. "Your friend seems really sweet."

"Meh," I said.

Edward's car came along, a graphite gray Lamborghini that caused even my inner lesbian to raise an eyebrow. The door opened vertically, like the hatch of some advanced aircraft, and the valet got out. I turned to my date, thinking I should at least kiss him goodnight before never answering the phone again. He gave the car an anxious glance, hesitating, and turned back to me.

"So, listen," he said. "I was talking with Ms Webber about you the other day, and she recommended one of your books to me. It's not usually my kind of thing, but I have to admit, I really enjoyed it. I'd love to get it signed by the author, if you wouldn't mind."

I smirked. "You want me to sign some cheap paperback bullshit about vampires?" I asked. After all, this was the kind of guy who probably collected Shakespeare folios.

He gave me a charming grin. "Come on, don't make me wait till your next book signing," he said. "I have it in my apartment, it's like ten minutes from here. You could follow me there, we could have a drink maybe. What do you think?"

Ah ha. He didn't care about getting the book signed, he only wanted to lure me into his apartment.

Smooth. Very smooth.

So, now I was faced with a decision. If I said no, chances are he'd get the hint and give up on me entirely after a missed phone call or two. That would probably be the wise thing to do. I was obviously going through some kind of confusion regarding whether or not I was totally lezbo, and now might not be the best time to begin a relationship.

And yet, maybe now was the perfect time – the only time. Maybe a decent guy and a steady relationship was exactly the thing I needed to, er, straighten myself out. The butterflies didn't like this idea. Thoughts of the pixie were plucking at my heart like cello strings, but I refused to give in to its siren song. A phase was more plausible than the idea that I'd somehow failed to notice in twenty-eight years that I'm gay, and as a rational woman, I couldn't bring myself to believe in love at first sight. A brief fit of same-sex infatuation wasn't worth rearranging my life over – or throwing away a guy like Edward.

Because let's face it – the guy's a dream. Handsome, rich, and the motherfucker speaks Italian. Just because I'm not attracted to him right now, doesn't mean I won't be attracted to him a month from now. All I had to do was give him a chance and see what happens. So I nodded at him and gave a little shrug.

"Okay," I said. "Why not?"

—

Chapter 13:

—

And so I went back to Edward's apartment – or should I say penthouse?

Edward made his humble abode in a high-rise apartment building with wallwindows boasting a glamorous view of the starlit skyline of Seattle. It was a very open and elegant living space. There was a kitchenette and a wet bar with darkwood stools, a home entertainment system complete with a glass coffeetable and an arrangement of black leather sofas. But the thing in particular I noticed as I walked in was the bed. There was a corner of the apartment sectioned off with plexiglass dividers, and as we went by I caught a glimpse of moonlight glinting off the black satin sheets spread over a luxurious king-sized bed.

Gulp.

The bookcases were arranged behind a glass desk upon which sat a closed laptop, a quartz clock which held two gold-plated fountain pens, and a photograph in a sterling-silver frame of an older couple I assumed to be his parents. He handed me one of the fountain pens and urged me toward the book case with a hand at the small of my back. His touch had an awkward effect on me, but I resisted the impulse to squirm away. I was here to screw the guy, after all – no need to be coy.

He showed me the book and reminisced with a smile about his favorite parts, perhaps to prove that he had actually read it. He then went to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. I flipped through the book for a second and stumbled across a sex scene. The heroine was in the process of being 'completed' by her vampire lover and I felt a strange sadness. I had never felt anything like that in real-life. I had always assumed that those kind of experiences existed only in the imagination – but then I met the pixie.

Butterflies fluttered up at the thought. Even just thinking about the way she made me feel made me feel things I'd never felt before. All those clichés that I had enjoyed vicariously through writing were real with her. Her glances made me hot all over, her smile made my knees weak. Her giggle made my boobs tingle. All she had to do was stand near me and my whole body would react and vibrate like a gigantic magnet.

And now here I am in some guy's apartment.

Perhaps I'm in denial?

My musings were interrupted with the return of Edward. He had a glass of wine in each hand and I quickly flipped to the front of the book and signed the inside cover with a flowing scrawl.

"There you go," I said. "A rare first edition paperback signed by the one and only Bella Swan. Enjoy it."

He smiled and handed me a glass. "Tomorrow morning it's going directly into the safe."

I chuckled once and gulped my wine a trifle eagerly – I was still waiting for the alcohol to turn me into a slut, but it hadn't happened yet. He set his own glass on the desk and examined the signature in the book with a smile.

"You have beautiful handwriting," he said.

I snorted. "I've got beautiful a lot of things."

"That's true," he said, looking me over with a smirk. I looked delectable in my little black dress, but honestly his eyes made me a little uncomfortable. So I turned back to the bookcase.

"You've got some cool books here," I said, examining the spines. I could see many first editions, some of them quite rare and valuable. The was a vintage copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ and I felt a shiver as I touched the binding – which was more of a reaction than anything I'd felt from my date. "Do you collect them, or—"

My words evaporated when I felt his hands on my hips. He was standing behind me and this was when he made his move, I guess. My heart stopped, but not in anything resembling excitement. More like dread. But I refrained from slapping him and screaming rape because, after all, that's what I'm here for.

"They're mostly antiques," he said. "I like classical things. Books, music. Art."

His hands went a little firmer as they caressed the area around my waist. My heart kick-started into a panicked pounding and my mouth went dry. I chuckled, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt.

"I'm more of a contemporary kind of girl," I said. "I enjoy cellphones, iPods. Twitter. That kind of thing."

"Mmm," he said. "Your hair smells amazing."

There was a nose buried in my hair, and unless there was a cockerspaniel on his shoulder, I assumed the nose belonged to him. He had inhaled quite deeply and I'm sure it was a very effective tactic against most girls – it would make them feel desirable, delicious, eager to be devoured. On a woman who had recently discovered she may be a lesbian, however, it struck me as rather uncomfortable.

"Thanks, it's French Vanilla," I said, fighting to keep calm. His hands were creeping up my dress and my whole body went rigid as his fingers began to toy with the waistband of my underwear. "I generally change shampoo and conditioner every month, but I like this one, so I might—"

He yanked down my panties.

Well.

Men are such beasts, aren't they?

I'm sure many women would enjoy such a vigorous and forthright seduction, but it seemed I wasn't one of those women. I had slept with him only a few days before without any great amount of pain or distress—or pleasure—but something seemed to have changed since then. Maybe it was the soul-shattering incident at the gym, but whatever it was, I now found that I honestly couldn't handle what was happening.

He was touching me.

Touching. Me.

It was awful, frankly. His hand was stroking the outside of my naked hip and the skin was crawling across my butt – not an elegant feeling. My heart was filled with the sense that something was wrong, that something was just not right, and a cold feeling washed over me. I had frozen for a moment, which had allowed him a brief nuzzle at my neck, and it was a kiss on my bare shoulder that snapped me out of it. I sprang into action, sideling away like a cat and quickly tugging my underwear back up.

"Uh, sorry," I said. "It's just, um…do you mind if we go a little slower?"

I don't know why I was apologizing, since I'm the woman and my feelings were more important than anything else. But truthfully I did feel a little prudish. Happily, he wasn't offended, he just smiled as if he thought I was shy and it was cute.

"Sure," he said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's just… I'm a little…"

Gay? Well. It is looking likely, isn't it?

"Nervous?" he offered.

"Something like that," I said, and ran a hand through my hair. I took a deep breath and gave him a smile, forcing myself to get under control. He watched me for a moment, as if to make sure I was okay, and then he took up his wine glass and handed the other one to me.

"Come on," he said, motioning with his head. "The bed's over here."

For a second I was confused.

Bed? What do we need a bed for?

Then I realized that we'd had a misunderstanding. When I asked if we could go slow, he thought I meant slower sex. Unfortunately, the kind of slow I was talking about was a 'let me out of this apartment right now before I call the cops' kind of slow. But it was only our second date, so these little misunderstandings were to be expected.

I followed him to the bed, wondering if I should just sprint for the door while I had a headstart. It would be a little embarrassing, but better than the alternatives like sex or jumping out the window.

So we sat down on the edge of the bed and finished off our wine, making idle chit chat. The satin felt smooth and slippery underneath me. I knew that somehow, someway, it would have been perfectly possible to put together a series of words that would explain this was a mistake and maybe I should go home, but the harder I searched for that elusive sentence, the more it evaded me. I was just so confused. I couldn't tell if it was him I was balking at or if it was just the fact that he was a guy. But either way, did it matter? Gay or straight, I shouldn't have to do anything I didn't want to do. Right?

Alas, it was too complicated to figure out over a few minutes, and naturally I decided on the least embarrassing course; sleep with him and in the morning move to Russia so I'd never have to see him again. That would be simplest.

Finally he took the empty wine glass out of my hand and set it on the bedside table along with his own. I was tempted to hide under the bed while his back was turned, but I didn't. He then turned back to me and put a hand on my leg. I managed not to burst into tears.

"You okay?" he asked.

I nodded; my apparent coyness must've been very cute, because it made him smile. He then leaned toward my mouth and captured my lips in a kiss.

Ick.

It was a struggle, but for a moment or two, I actually tried to kiss back. I made a moan into his mouth and pushed my tongue against his – almost vomiting in the process. There was nothing technically offensive about the kiss, but it just really wasn't what I wanted. I wanted something else. I wanted the pixie. I wanted her soft little lips, her smooth little cheeks. A soft and slender neck to curl my hand around. Not this stylish stubble on his monstrously huge head. I mean, really; have I truly been straight all this time? Because this was honestly awful.

But I didn't give in, not yet. I made another attempt at deepening the kiss, valiantly ignoring the way my stomach curdled as I swirled my tongue around his. He had been caressing my leg and now his hand moved between my thighs. My heart stopped and so did my tongue. I felt his hand stroke the soft skin on the inside of my thigh and a helpless shiver ran up my spine. It was becoming very clear to me that I was seriously not going to enjoy this and it was time to try and extricate myself from the situation – NOW.

So I broke away from the kiss quickly, brushing his hand away from my lap as if it were some rodent. I closed my legs and refused to look at him. It felt really strange inside my mouth, but it would've been inelegant to spit on the floor.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, concern and breathlessness in his voice. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," I said. "I just…"

"Just what?"

"I don't _know_ ," I said, angry and embarrassed at myself. "I just don't _fucking_ know."

He didn't answer. I looked at him, and I did feel sorry for the poor guy, even despite the confusion and repulsiveness swirling in my stomach. After a wonderful dinner and a skillful seduction he now had an attractive woman on his bed panicking about her orientation.

It took him a second or two to process what I was saying, but finally he smiled and gave me a reassuring nod. "That's okay, we don't have to do this if you don't want," he said. "If you're not comfortable, we can wait."

"Well, it's not that I'm not comfortable," I said. "It's just…"

He chuckled, still slightly breathless. "Just what?" he said. "You're kind of scaring me. You're not a dude under there, are you? I wasn't that drunk the first time we did it, was I?"

I snorted. Not a dude; just kind of gay.

"No," I said. "I'm just…kind of confused right now."

I was self-conscious about the word confused, but he didn't appear to catch the hint.

"Confused about what?" he asked. "Is it me, is it something I did?"

I started shaking my head, but then stopped. I looked at him. His eyes were brown and full of concern. He really was a nice guy. Maybe he deserved the truth? I sighed and looked down at the bed. The black satin was cold and smooth under my hand. It really was a shame I wasn't so straight right now – it was a beautiful bed.

"Well," I said. "The thing is…I'm kind of going through a, uh…phase?"

The word phase made him sit up straighter. After all, I obviously wasn't referring to a fashion phase. Concerning sex there was really only one type of phase. Still, he didn't want to be presumptuous.

"Phase?" he asked. "What kind of phase?"

"I don't know," I said quietly. "It might be more than a phase, I'm not sure. It's hard to tell. It's only been a couple weeks. I haven't really…"

He waited for me to continue, but I trailed off and didn't look up.

"Wanna talk about it?"

I took a deep breath and shook my head. "That's alright," I said. "It's not fair to dump your issues onto a guy you're not sleeping with."

I got up from the bed and started gathering up my things so that I could go. My coat was folded over the back of the couch and he followed me into the living area.

"You sure?" he asked. "I'm a pretty good listener."

"Yeah, I just…"

I threaded my arms into the coat and shrugged it on. He was watching me with a very patient expression, and strangely, I really did want to talk about it. For the first time since I had laid eyes on that beguiling pixie named Alice, I really did want to talk about it. I couldn't talk about it with Jess or Angela because they had hidden agendas and I really had no respect for them, but Edward was different. He was a total stranger, almost, so I wouldn't have to care what he thought. He was also intelligent and nice, and he obviously had nothing against homosexuality. He had met the pixie at the party and treated her exactly like anyone else. And more than that, he deserved to know why some woman he liked was running out on him in the middle of the night.

So I huffed out a breath, flicked out my hair from the back of the coat, and let my arms sag.

"Oh, fuck it," I said. "You wanna know the truth?"

He leaned a hip on the back rest of the couch. "Sure."

"I think I might be a lesbian."

For a moment he froze. Then he unleaned from the couch and swallowed a lump in his throat. Finally he composed his face into a dignified frown and said:

"Lesbian?"

It sounded even worse when he said it. My face was flaming, but I nodded. "Yeah," I said, butterflies storming in my stomach. "I'm not sure yet, but there's, um…signs."

"Such as?" he inquired.

I shot a helpless glance at the door. As if considering making a break for it. I really wanted to talk about it, but it was just so embarrassing. I turned back to him.

"Well," I said. "There's this girl I met." Even saying that much caused a wave of liberation to wash over me. "She's amazing," I went on. "You saw her at Jess's party. She was dressed as a fairy."

"Ah," he said. "I thought I noticed you kept looking at her."

"Yeah, well," I said, I broke out into a goofy grin. "She's fucking adorable."

He nodded. His eyes dropped for a second, but then he smiled. I realized the grin I was wearing was far more than anything I had given to him tonight and quickly wiped it away. But if he made the same connection, he did a good job at not being wounded.

"You like her?" he asked.

I nodded and took a long breath. I couldn't deny it anymore, so I just blurted it out. "I'm fucking crazy about her," I said, feeling another flood of relief wash through me. "I can't even explain it. When I'm with her, it's like…it's like I'm gonna die if I can't have her. I've never felt that way about anyone."

He chuckled once. "Lucky girl."

"The thing is, though," I went on quickly, "I'm not sure if it's just a phase. I mean, how am I supposed to know? I've been straight all my life, and suddenly…"

"Are there any other signs?"

"A couple."

"Like what?"

"Well, you," I said reluctantly. "I'm not really attracted to you. Even though…"

I gestured at him with my hand, conceding his perfection. Credit where credit is due. He smiled and shook his head gently, diplomatically choosing to ignore that.

"Anything else?" he asked.

I bit my lip. I didn't want to admit the next bit, but it might be my only opportunity to confess. So I shrugged meekly. "I looked at lesbian porn the other day."

"I've done that myself," he said. "And?"

"It was kind of hot," I admitted.

He smirked and chuckled silently to himself. I grinned and went on quickly.

"So, what do you think?" I asked. "Do you think it's just a phase, or…?"

He shook his head and started moving toward the kitchen. "I think only you can know for sure," he said, "but from what I'm hearing, I'd say you don't strike me as entirely straight."

"Sorry," I said. "I know it's so fucking cruel to tell you all this, but…"

He took up my purse from the kitchen counter and handed it to me. "Don't worry about it," he said. "A girl can't help the way she feels. My ex taught me that when she fell in love with someone else."

"Still, I'm really sorry," I said, and I really did feel terrible. "But better now than later, right?"

He nodded and opened the door for me. He touched me once, at the small of my back, and funnily enough I finally felt a flicker; maybe I was just really grateful for his understanding. I stepped through the door and turned around, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. I felt amazingly shy and insecure, and before I left I really needed to know he didn't hate me.

"So, um…I guess this is goodbye," I said. "You didn't really like me that much, did you?"

He didn't reply. He just smiled, leaned, and placed a kiss on my cheek.

"It was nice knowing you, Ms Swan," he said. "Take care."

It felt like a terrible way to end the evening, even worse than sex, but I nodded. "You too," I said, and then I turned and started down the corridor.

I had the sensation he was watching me go, and at the corner I paused and looked back. He was standing in the doorway and I felt a pang for the poor guy. Then he smiled, looked away, and closed the door.

—

It was late by the time I got home and I was extra quiet so that I didn't alert Jess. I needed to be alone so that I could figure out what had happened tonight and how it would affect me and my orientation. My heart was still rather frantic and I was more confused than ever.

So I went to the kitchen sink and washed my hands – I could remember how Edward's face felt underneath them and it was not a pleasant memory. And the kiss – urk. I spat in the sink and rinsed my mouth out. In doing so, I realized that my mouth was very dry. I hadn't had anything to drink but wine for over two hours. So I opened the fringe and grabbed a small bottle of chilled spring water – just the thing to cool down a flustered budding-lesbian after a narrow escape from a man's apartment. I swung closed the fridge door and twisted off the cap. I took a refreshing sip, and as I did, I noticed a note stuck on the fridge with a magnet shaped like a chubby cherub.

It was Jess's handwriting. She must've used her spare key while I was out and stuck the note here for when I got home. I took a closer look and saw it was a phone number. My face began to heat even before I read the words underneath.

 _Alice's number – call her you dyke!_

It was written in red ink and she had drawn a couple lovehearts around the number. I plucked the note off the fridge and stared down at it with butterflies swirling in my stomach. That Jess. She was either incredibly insightful for realizing I wouldn't be able to go through with it tonight, or a total fluke. Either way—

"Fucking bitch," I muttered.

—

Chapter 14:

—

It was over a week before I had mustered up the courage to call. I needed to be sure of myself first, and it took a lot of soul-searching before I was able to accept the simple and blatant facts: I'm attracted to a chick. It was no great revelation, obviously, but until now it had been purely theoretical, something I never intended to act on. But now I had a phone number and a very real desire to do things I never thought I'd do before, and it took a while to get comfortable with it. Few professions provide paid time off even for things as important as personal introspection, but that was the perk of being a self-employed artist; plenty of time to ponder one's orientation.

I made many attempts at calling, but I couldn't quite do it. In the morning, I'd find myself spooning up cereal at the kitchen counter and shooting nervous glances at the phone. A few morning's later, the phone would be in my hand and my thumb hovering over the number pad. On the weekend I actually got the off the exercise bike and strode into the kitchen, determined to call. Only to hit two numbers and hang up before trudging back to the bike.

I was distracted all week. I couldn't write, certainly not about brooding vampire dudes. My interest in that area had waned somewhat lately. The afternoons would find me sitting at my desk, staring at a blank screen. At dinner time Jess would come over, eat my food, and badger me about calling Alice. She even threatened to have Alice call me, instead. It took me days before I could even admit that I did in fact plan to call – I just needed to be sure, first.

The nights were long and frustrating. I had a dream and woke up flushed and panting, sticky with sweat and something else. In the dream I was back in the gym, but the gym was empty aside from me and the pixie, and we were both naked. It was a very weird dream. The pixie was working out, like normal, her naked body glistening with sweat and beauty, and somehow we ended up together on the yoga mats. Realistically, sweat and sex don't mix, but in the dream it was the most erotic experience I could've imagined. It was four in the morning when I had groaned myself awake, and there was little chance of going back to sleep. So I fetched some clean clothes and went for a shower. Until that moment, I had been determined not to give in to any auto-erotic activity that involved thoughts of other women, but I couldn't resist anymore – I slipped a hand between my thighs and moaned under the water as almost a month of pent up pressure was finally released.

By the time I was dry I decided never to do it again. By lunch time I decided that was silly, and I did it again that night. I did it three nights running and each time was better than anything I'd felt with a guy. It was such a new and exciting feeling – on the forth night I practically hopped into bed, eager in a way I'd never felt before. I felt like Sleeping Beauty who had finally woken up with a kiss from her handsome prince – or in my case, a wet lesbian dream.

Yet still I couldn't bring myself to call her. It was almost two weeks by now, and I had begun to convince myself that she had probably met someone else, or hooked up with Leah. So there was no point calling, anyway. Besides, why would a girl like her be interested in me? I'm not even gay – not officially. And she had told me herself that she's at a point in her life when she's looking for a stable relationship. Would I be able to offer her that?

My heart said yes. My heart wanted to marry her tomorrow and bare her children as soon as possible. My body wanted that, too. My mind, however, did have an objection or two. For instance, what would I tell my mother? My highly traditional christian mother who had been to trying set me up with boys since playdates in elementary school. I had no respect for the woman or her beliefs, of course, but it wasn't a conversation I was eager for.

But alas, there was apparently no stopping the lesbian infection. It was spreading at an alarming pace, and the longer I waited the less chance I had of actually getting a date with the pixie. And if I missed out, what then? Would I go straight again? Somehow I didn't think so, since it was doubtful I was ever really straight to begin with. It was more likely I would have to find someone less attractive to go gay with, or maybe brood for several years in unrequited depression before finally hanging myself. Neither alternative seemed very appealing – maybe I should just call.

But I couldn't, not now, not yet. The days dragged on and the nervousness turned to agony. What if I was too late? What if she hooked up with someone else? I had waited so long even Jess was losing interest, although she made sure to let me know that the pixie was still available last she heard. She even spent a few minutes assuring me that the pixie liked me, but I could tell she was getting a little annoyed at my indecision.

So, all I had to do was call. One call, one simple date. It seemed so easy – but what if she says no? What if Jess is wrong and she tells me to get lost? After all, our previous encounters couldn't have left a good impression on her. So far each time we had met, I had literally ran away from her. What if she thinks I'm not worth the effort?

I didn't know, but there was only one way to find out. And I _did_ have to find out. These feelings were too powerful to ignore, too attractive, too intoxicating. My whole heart was filled with the certainty that a date with the pixie—even just a drink—would be about the closest thing to heaven on earth. To be near her, to listen to her, to look at her. My face filled with heat at the thought. I was sitting at my desk, in front of a blank screen, and suddenly I decided I had to do it. I had to at least call. It was nine o'clock on a Wednesday night, so I probably wouldn't be interrupting anything important. And if Jess was right about her really liking me, she might even be happy to hear from me.

So I picked up the cellphone and leaned back in my swivelchair. I had added her number to speed dial and I spent a long time holding the phone in my lap and staring at it. I had spent hours over the last week acting out the conversation in my head, but I really had no idea what she would say. All I knew was that the rest of my life depended on it. An exaggeration, perhaps, but that's what it felt like. I wanted to chicken out so badly, but I couldn't. I had to do it. _Had_ to. So I took a long and deep and shaky breath. My thumb trembled over the dial button and finally – I pressed it.

The phone rang once and suddenly I hopped to my feet – it didn't seem appropriate to sit down for a conversation like this. I began pacing the living room as the phone continued to ring. This was such a mistake. She probably hates me for how I keep running away from her, there's no way she'll want to see me. I should just—

"Hello?"

Dear god.

Her voice.

I froze in panic, butterflies suddenly storming in my stomach. What do I say? I had no idea. But luckily it was biologically impossible to die on the spot at the sound of someone else's voice, so after a moments of dumbstruck silence I was able to rally my wits and offer a greeting.

"H-hi," I stuttered. "It's, um…me. Jess's friend. We met a couple weeks ago. And then at the, uh…gym?"

The last word came out in a squeak. I cringed at myself and stomped my foot silently on the carpet – I sounded like such a retard. Maybe I'm not gay at all, just handicapped.

"Oh, right," she said. "Bella."

She remembered my name. The dear woman.

"Yeah," I said.

And there I stopped, completely at a loss. How exactly does one go about asking a girl for a date? I'd never taken notes on how guys did it to me, and I had no clue how to do it now. She waited for more, but when it became apparent that she was speaking with someone who may or may not be completely stupid, she cleared her throat.

"Okay," she said. "So, um…why are you calling? I didn't even know you had my number."

"Jess gave it to me."

"She did? Why?"

I licked my lips. They were very dry. "I, um…" I covered the mouthpiece quickly and whimpered. Then I put the phone back to my ear. "I wanted to talk to you," I said, with a mighty effort at casualness.

"Oh," she said. "Okay. About what?"

"Well, um…the thing is…"

"Yeah?"

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling helplessly, as if to beg god for courage. Then I swallowed. "I was wondering if you wanted to get together sometime," I said, my face flaming. "Maybe for a drink, or a cup of coffee…"

"You mean like a date?" she asked.

Oh god.

A date. With a girl.

What have I sunk to?

"Um," I said. "I, uh… I don't… I mean, I'm not…"

I trailed off and almost sobbed. But luckily my mild homophobia didn't offend her. She giggled, softly, just once, and I could hear a smile in her voice.

"Okay, let me put it this way," she said. "Are you trying to ask me out? Just to clarify."

That was a little easier to swallow than the idea of a date, so I swallowed it – the lump in my throat felt bigger than the phone. I only had a split second to decide if this was what I wanted, but I didn't need it. Deep in my heart I had made the decision long ago. I wanted this more than anything. Needed this. Gay, straight, or otherwise – I really, really, _really_ , wanted to go out with her. So I nodded into the phone, my body light and trembly, and admitted:

"Kind of."

It wasn't as decisive as I felt, but it was the most the tattered remains of my courage could manage.

"I see," she said. "Well, I'm kind of surprised. I wasn't aware you like girls. I thought you were…" She trailed off, avoiding any kind of label.

"Well, it's kind of new."

She was quiet for a second. I froze, a bad feeling washing over me. Finally she spoke.

"How new?" she asked.

The neutralness in her voice was like a knife in my heart – she wasn't interested. Jess told me that she had been hurt before by chicks who were confused – hell, she had told me so herself. That day in the gym, on the ellipticals. She had warned me that she was only interested in lesbians – but then she had flirted with me and sent all those signals. Oh god, please let her like me. I'm gonna die if she doesn't like me.

"Um, a couple weeks?" I said. " Maybe a month. I don't know, I'm not really sure yet."

"You're not sure."

"Not really," I admitted. "I mean, it's all so new to me, you know? It's just very confusing."

I heard her sigh. As if she had heard it all before and wasn't particularly thrilled to hear it again. It was a beautiful sigh, soft and gentle, but it filled me with terror. This was it. This was where she got all reluctant and said she'll think about it and maybe she'll call me back and she never will. Who was I kidding? This was stupid. Why would a girl as pretty and perfect as her want to spend her evenings tiptoeing around her date's orientation issues? She must have so many better offers. This was a mistake, I should just—

"Well, okay," she said. "We can get together."

I froze.

"Really?"

"Sure," she said. "Why not?"

There wasn't a great deal of enthusiasm in her voice, but I could overlook that for the moment. My heart was bursting with joy, and I decided right then to pay back her kindness by going completely lezbo for her as soon as realistically possible. The woman was an angel – she deserved to date a total slut, nothing less.

"Okay," I said. "Thanks."

She chuckled once at my gratitude. "Great," she said. "Did you have a place in mind? I know a great little place downtown called _The Honey Hole_. It's a girl bar, would that be okay?"

"A girl bar?" I asked. "Does that mean…?"

"Yes," she said, her voice going firmer as if to test me. "That means it's a gay bar for girls. Is that a problem?"

Actually, it did seem something like a problem. I never had any issues with lesbian's before—some of my best friends were lesbians—but that was before I realized I might be becoming one. I would've preferred to avoid associating with any kind of label –but that was kind of silly when dating another girl.

"Um, no," I said. "That's fine."

"Great. How about eight o'clock, Friday night? Is that good for you?"

"Okay. That's, that's, that's…"

I was stuttering again. I forced myself to stop, took a breath, and said:

"That's great."

She giggled into the phone. I could almost hear her shaking her head in pity. "Okay, I guess I'll see you then," she said. "Bye."

"Bye," I said, and she hung up.

For a long moment I stood there in the living room, the phone still at my ear. Then slowly I lowered my hand and looked down at the phone.

I had a date with a girl.

Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach and a slow excitement was welling in my chest. A date with a girl. With a pixie. I wasn't sure if it was okay to be happy about that, but I couldn't help it. A smile slowly bloomed on my face and suddenly I giggled. Then I giggled again. My dignity didn't want me to go any further, but the joy was too much to contain in a mere grin. So I did a fist pump, giggling, and almost fell over from the happy weightlessness in my limbs. I set the phone on the desk and leaned on it for a few moments, smiling and getting myself under control. Then, just as I was beginning to calm down, I broke out into a happy dance right there in the living room.

I had a date with a girl.

And fuck me if I'm not excited.

—

Chapter 15:

—

But, of course, it wasn't long before the excitement turned to dread. Friday night was tomorrow night, and as the hour approached, I felt a plague of butterflies build in my stomach. I had been on dates before, plenty of them – but not quite like this. It just seemed so out of context. She's a girl and I'm supposed to what? Date her? It seemed like an odd thing to do with another woman, but at the same time, it seemed so perfect. Date a girl, why not? Girls are cute.

Especially the pixie.

Honestly, I'm not sure if I would've been able to go through with it if it wasn't for the massive attraction I felt for her. If it was any other girl I think I might've been more comfortable faking it with Edward.

But it wasn't any other girl, it was the pixie. That sweet, adorable, ultra-gorgeous pixie who had glanced the straight right out of me. Imagine what she could do with a whole date, perhaps even a kiss. It was almost scary. But whatever happened, I promised myself I wouldn't melt into a gooey puddle at her feet. After all, it wasn't even a real date, just a drink. A real date would depend on the outcome of tonight.

So it was important to make a good impression. Dress well; skinny jeans, black croptop, leather jacket. Black boots with studs and zips up the side. Casual, but rawr. But clothes were only part of the impression. It was also important to present an attractive personality. I had to be cool, calm, intelligent. Above all I had to make sure she didn't notice that the idea of dating a girl still does repulse me on some level. I mean, really; a girl? So weird. In a way, it was a good thing we were meeting at a gay bar. I wouldn't have to worry about bumping into my mom, at least. But since the pixie had been gracious enough to agree to see me, it was the least I could do to pretend to be comfortable.

I found the place easily enough. Hard to miss; there were lesbians outside. You could tell by how they were kissing each other.

I pulled up at the curb, at exactly eight o'clock sharp, and stared at them through the windshield for a moment. They were quite young, one of them rather butch, the other more regular. The butch girl had the other girl pinned up against a car, and it seemed apparent that they were kind of drunk. I'd seen gay people in public before, of course, but it was different knowing that soon it might be me out there, kissing a girl goodnight after a drink or two Friday night. It didn't seem like my ideal lifestyle, but a girl can't help the way she feels, sadly.

Right now I felt nervous and on the verge of nausea, but I killed the engine and took a deep breath. Because inside that bar there was a pixie named Alice, and honestly? She had practically turned me already. As much as I wanted to flee and not have to deal with any of this, there was an even a stronger part of me that simply wanted to get drunk, take her home, and eat the poor girl from head to toe. Hopefully the two urges would balance themselves out and lead to a nice evening and a second date perhaps.

So I got out the car and entered this place called The Honey Hole. Cute name. Kinky. It wasn't a huge place, but it appeared to be popular. They had a live band and the dancefloor was cluttered with people that I would assume were lesbians. It seemed weird to see so many in one place, but then again, that was the point of bars like these. There were tall ones, short ones, big ones, small ones. Bulky ones, girly ones. Old, young. There were even one or two that appeared to be aliens – strange creatures with weird makeup and way too many piercings. My sisters at last.

I reviewed the room with a feeling I couldn't quite describe. To be honest, I didn't really feel like I belonged in a place like this. This was a place for gay people, and I'm not gay – not technically, at least. Not yet.

Meanwhile, I was standing there like something dumb and people were beginning to notice. A blonde at a nearby table smirked at me and turned to snicker something to her girlfriend. My lezzy vibe might've been a little dim in a place like this. My homophobia felt like it was radiating from me like an aura.

In any case, I couldn't stand around forever. I had a date, and the sooner it was over with, the sooner this feeling of excruciating awkwardness would go away. So I cast my eyes across the room once more, looking for the pixie. I adjusted the strap of my handbag on my shoulder, wondering if maybe she wasn't here yet, or if she wasn't coming. The butterflies panicked at the thought. What would I do if she didn't show up? Surely it wouldn't be appropriate to remain in a place like this without an official appointment. I walked forward reluctantly, wishing we could've gone for coffee anywhere else, and—

There she was.

I stopped mid-step. She was at the bar and I was looking directly at her back. I could recognize her hair, that adorable black pixie-cut. She was wearing a lace top and an office skirt, probably what she'd been wearing at work. She was sitting on a high stool and her clothes were very form-fitting. I saw how tiny her waist was and felt my stomach lurch. Tiny waists had never turned me on in my life, but right now it seemed like the most attractive thing ever. I could only imagine what it would be like to put my hands at that waist or maybe wrap my arms around it, holding her, kissing her neck. Suddenly I was blushing.

She already had a drink, which meant she had probably arrived early. I was staring and hesitating so long that she actually took two sips before setting the glass down on the bartop. She then looked over her shoulder, toward the entrance, and our eyes met. She seemed surprised to see me there, but then she smiled; a cute quirk of her lips over the curve of her shoulder. She was wearing red lipstick. I froze, my heart thumping in my chest. I swallowed a huge lump that had formed in my throat, gathered my strength, and then I staggered over on weak and clumsy legs, hoping desperately that I wouldn't simply fall apart under the blinding cuteness of her smile.

There was a free stool right beside her and she swiveled slightly as I approached, her smile widening as she looked me over. "Hi, wow, you look nice," she said. "I love those boots, I'm just crazy about studs. Did you find the place okay?"

I slipped onto the stool, nodding. She had fired off the compliments so fast I barely had time to glow. But I took a moment to check out her own footgear. Ankle-high boots, lace up and black with a nice heel – fucking adorable. I wanted to tell her that she looked nice too, but I didn't want her to think I was attracted to her – damn denial. Besides, I'd missed the opening, so I decided to just answer the question.

"Yeah, it was pretty easy to find," I said, arranging my handbag on the bartop. "It, um…" I cast a doubtful look over the dancefloor where women were dancing with women. "…seems like a nice place."

She grinned at my bewilderment. I was glad she wasn't the type of person to get offended easily. "I love this place," she said. "I've been coming here for a long time. Only problem is, it's a very close community. Everyone's already slept with everyone else, so every night is kind of like a big game of spin-the-bottle, but with sex. Plus, there's all this drama and the guarantee of bumping into an ex-girlfriend every other night. Not the best place to look for a serious relationship, you know?"

I nodded, unable to find a comment for any of that. What sort of den of iniquity had I stumbled into? Where women not only sleep with women but with plenty of them and often? How decadent. On the other hand, it did sound like fun – if you were into that kind of thing.

"So, what do you want to drink?" she asked, signaling for the bartender.

"Just a beer," I said.

"Beer?" giggled the pixie. "What kind of girl drinks beer?"

I snorted. "Wish I knew."

She glanced at me as she spoke to the bartender. I was sitting there uncomfortably on the bar stool, handbag in my lap and looking around in thinly veiled terror. The beer came in a glass stein. The pixie was drinking a gin and tonic with ice and a lime wedge. She had noticed that I was very uncomfortable, sitting there in the open, so she picked up both glasses, smiled, and gestured with her chin across the room.

"Come on, let's sit at a table," she said.

I nodded gratefully; it sounded like a very good idea to go hide in a corner somewhere.

We took a table in the back where a black and white picture hung in a large frame against the wall. The picture depicted two women from the neck down, wrapped in an embrace that carefully concealed each other's nudity while showcasing the elegant lines of their torsos. Very artistic – headless lesbians in monochrome. I'd fap.

"So," the pixie said as she sat down and shuffled forward her chair. She smiled at me beautifully. "Nervous?"

The smile made me gulp. I figured I'd better be honest, since I couldn't hide it and she didn't appear to be repelled by shyness. So I nodded and said, "Kind of."

"First date with a girl, huh?"

"Yeah."

Her smile widened into a grin, as if my awkwardness were somehow enjoyable for her. On the phone she had seemed to be slightly put off by my awkwardness, but that wasn't the case now. I hoped she wasn't intending to simply toy with me and toss me away.

"Well, don't worry," she said. "No pressure, okay? Let's just hang out. I know what it's like when you're confused. Well, I don't know personally, but I've seen it a lot."

"Thanks," I said. I sipped my beer. It was cold and even just the tiniest sip convinced me that alcohol probably wasn't going to help me relax. A hot flash passed over me and I put the glass back down.

"So, why don't you tell me about yourself?" she asked. "What made you decide you just had to try dating a chick?"

She had to speak loudly to be heard over the music and, like an idiot, I found myself sinking in my chair at the over-loud mention of dating a chick. I even glanced around to see if anyone heard, which was an incredibly stupid thing to do. It was a gay bar – same-sex dating wasn't likely to raise any eyebrows or get me ejected from the premises.

"I'm not sure," I said. "I just…"

She blinked at me and swirled the ice in her glass, waiting. She was so pretty and so…feminine. I couldn't believe I was actually attracted to her, and I really had no choice but to be honest again.

"To be honest," I said, my face on fire. "It was you."

She paused mid-sip, as if surprised. Then she giggled once and dabbed her mouth with the back of her wrist. "Me?"

"Well, yeah," I admitted.

She smiled again, a full smile with her red lips. "Aww, that's sweet," she said. "I love when straight chicks crush on me. Same thing happens at work. I helped a girl with a paper on interplanetary rotations - the next week I'm helping her understand that it's not really ethical to date students. If only I could make that same magic work on a real lesbian." She sighed and looked out over the dancefloor. As if even now one of them might fall under her spell.

"It might not be just a crush," I said, jealously trying to snatch back her attention.

"No?" she said.

Butterflies fluttered up in my stomach. It was hard to admit the next part, but I needed to get it out there. So I tried. "Actually," I said. "I think I might be…"

I trailed off hoping it was clear what I might be. It probably was, but she smirked.

"Might be what?" she asked.

I blushed. "You know."

"Maybe," she said. "But why don't you say it out loud anyway?"

I bit my lip and avoided her eyes. I wasn't used to a playful pixie, and I couldn't help smiling even through my discomfort.

"Why?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Why not?"

"Are you trying to embarrass me?"

"That depends," she said. "Is it embarrassing to be what you think you might be?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, you didn't," she said. Then she leaned on the table and smirked at me steadily. "But you're not really saying anything else, are you?"

My smile was growing into a grin. I hesitated, but her flirting was too cute to resist. I was generally a strong and independent young woman, but under those huge and beautiful honey-colored eyes I was helpless. If she wanted me to admit I was a terrorist I probably would've done it.

"You want me to say it out loud?" I asked.

"I think it would be cute to hear."

"Okay, fine," I said. "I think I might be a lesbian."

The butterflies flared, but outwardly I remained composed. I was quite proud of myself, too – I didn't even stutter. The pixie smiled and gave a little giggle and a small round of applause.

"Hey, there you go," she said. "Say it again."

I was so surprised by the command that I didn't even understand. "Say what?"

"That you're a lesbian."

I smiled and shook my head. Ordinarily I would've been pissed at someone who was deliberately trying to embarrass me, but I couldn't be angry at something so cute. Besides…it was actually kind of fun to say it out loud. It was liberating - even if I didn't fully mean it yet. Even if it was only to amuse her. So I turned back to her and smirked.

"Fine," I said. "I think I'm a lesbian."

She grinned, as if impressed I actually did it, and nodded her approval. "Not bad," she said. "You should practice that. It's sounds good on you."

I blushed and sipped. Strangely, it actually felt like a compliment. The pixie sipped her drink as well and set the glass back on the table.

"So, what makes you think you might be like _that_?" she said, emphasizing the word 'that' with a smirk.

I didn't know if I was ready to talk about this, but I guess she had a right to know as much as I did. I hadn't forgotten that straight chicks weren't really her first choice in companionship.

"Well, I'm attracted to a girl, for starters," I said.

She nodded and smiled. "Always a big clue," she said. "But not really definitive. Most women are attracted to other women on some level. Those that haven't tried it have generally thought about it. Big difference between being a lesbian and being bi-curious."

I understood that, but she had no idea how intense these feelings were. Despite the stuttering and fumbling, I did manage to keep most of them hidden. Exposing them would probably get me arrested for sexual assault or something equally indecent. But I didn't know how to explain all this, so I gave a little shrug.

"This is a little different," I said.

"How so?"

Reluctantly, I gave another shrug, and smiled at her coyly. "It's a pretty big crush," I told her, and my heart leapt at how she smirked, cocky but cute.

"Really?" she said. "That's weird. I always suspected you liked me, but it was hard to tell by how you kept running away from me like I'm a leper. A little denial, perhaps?"

I chuckled to myself and looked out across the bar to avoid her eyes. It was dark and the bar was lit in blue neon. "Maybe a little," I said. "It kind of freaked me out."

I glanced at her to see if she was offended, but she only smiled. I got the feeling she'd had conversations like this before and it was really nothing new to her.

"Any other signs?" she asked. "What's you're history like with guys? If that's not too personal."

"Not so great," I said. "I've had a few serious boyfriends, but I've never really been in love. I don't think so, anyway," I added. After all, it was hard to tell. There were times I thought I had been in love, but after meeting the pixie, it all seemed so mild and forgettable in comparison.

She seemed to be waiting for more, but when I didn't elaborate, she decided to prod. "And sex?"

Oh. Um…

"With guys?" I asked.

There were so many witty remarks she could've made right there—no, with farm animals—but with a smile and a chuckle, she refrained. "Yes, with guys," she said. "I'm just curious. You don't have to answer if you don't want."

"Well," I said. I sipped my beer to delay. It was a bit of an awkward subject—a subject that still greatly confused me—but I rallied myself without much embarrassment. "I guess it was always okay," I said. "I mean, it was never bad. I liked it, but…"

"But?"

"I don't know," I said, and gave a small shrug. "At the time I thought it was fine, but now? I have to wonder if maybe it wasn't okay after all. I mean, I don't really have anything to compare it to, but even just thinking about another woman…well. You know."

I ended with a blush. There was still a small smirk on her pretty lips, but she was nodding thoughtfully, as if that last confession carried more weight than the other ones. It made sense, I suppose. Liking chicks was only half of what made a girl gay. The other half was not liking guys. I had both sides covered – hard to believe I'm legitimately confused.

"So, what do you think?" I asked. "Jess thinks I am. That's part of why she first set me up with you."

The pixie laughed outright at that. "She also thinks Mike's a great guy," she said. "Jess isn't always right."

For some reason I was disappointed. "So you don't think I am?"

"Hey, I don't even know you," she said. "You could be gay, straight, or a dentist from Iowa. How would I know?"

"I guess," I said, and looked down at my beer. It was only half gone. I'd been drinking slowly so I wouldn't get drunk and throw myself at the girl. But now it seemed like she might not even be interested. I wonder if there was enough liquid in the glass to drown myself in?

The pixie watched me for a moment. The band continued in the background and there was a loud din of conversation. I looked over my shoulder at the band and back at the pixie. Her expression had dimmed somewhat, and I could tell she wasn't exactly thrilled about my orientation issues. But she must've felt sorry for me, because she sighed and forced a smile back on her face.

"I'd like to help you find out, though," she said.

I knew she was forcing herself, but I felt my heart skip a beat. A more selfless person would've backed out graciously to avoid being a bother, but I couldn't.

"You would?" I asked.

"Sure," she said. "Why not? If you are gay, you'll need to start somewhere. And if you're not, well." She shrugged and gave a little smirk. "Maybe we'll have some fun together, anyway."

A very large thrill passed through me. Fun? Maybe I had a dirty mind, but I didn't think she was referring to a game of checkers. I had no idea if I was ready for any of that, but it didn't matter. The pull I felt for this girl was irresistible. Even if she only wanted to be friends I would've been very grateful. I just hoped this meant we could have a second date.

"Okay," I said. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she giggled. She went to say something else, but she saw something behind me that made her close her mouth. I looked over my shoulder to see what it was, and—

Oh boy.

It was that chick Leah. She wasn't wearing a skintight cougar-colored leotard like the last time I saw her, but it was difficult not to remember that long dark hair and beautiful native American complexion. I guess the pixie wasn't kidding when she said you tend to bump into ex-girlfriend's at places like these. But she wasn't even an ex, was she? If the pixie and I were gonna start dating, I'd have to get some more details on that. Last I heard they were friends with benefits and unresolved intimacy issues. I'm an open minded girl, but honestly, I didn't think I'd be okay dating someone who was sleeping with another woman on the side.

She was at the bar, and she had just noticed her friend – and me. Her expression didn't seem friendly. I glanced at the pixie and the pixie sighed. She seemed to expect a little drama, and she wasn't wrong. When I glanced back at the other woman she was whispering something to her date. Then she turned to us and came over, frowning slightly but not actually carrying a broken beer bottle to slash someone.

"Hey," she said to the pixie, pointedly ignoring me. "I didn't know you were going to be here tonight."

The statement seemed semi-possessive, and the pixie scoffed. "That's because you're not my jealous girlfriend to whom I have to report my location and status every two minutes," she said. "Are you?"

Well. There may have been a little tension there.

"No need to be a bitch, Alice," the woman said.

The pixie rolled her eyes. "We've been through this, Leah," she said. "How many times do I have to explain? I'm not into you like that."

The woman, Leah, had nothing to say to that, so she turned her attention—and her wounded glare—onto me. She assessed me with her dark and sullen eyes, none too kindly, and snorted before turning back to the pixie.

"So, you're on a date?" she said scornfully, as if it was absurd to be dating anyone other than her.

"It's a preliminary date," the pixie said. "Just drinks. Not that it's any of your business."

I was wondering if I was supposed to have any dialogue in this little drama, but I couldn't figure out my role. I wasn't a friend, a lover, a girlfriend. I wasn't even gay. So I just sat there, content to watch them like an episode of _The L-Word_. But sadly, the woman named Leah seemed inclined to drag me into it.

"Weren't you supposed to be straight?" she said, her tone almost an accusation.

Luckily, my mood was too strange too be annoyed or intimidated, so I just shrugged and said, "Technically."

She snorted and turned to the pixie. "You won't date me because I'm bi," she said, "yet here you are with a straight chick. You're such a hypocrite, Alice."

A bit of heat came into her voice, and I was curious at how the pixie would counter. Her pretty face went a little peeved, and her perfect brows formed a frown. "I don't care that you're bi," she said. "I just think we're better as friends, that's all. Why can't you understand that?"

I turned back to the woman for her response, but she appeared to have decided on a dignified retreat. It was difficult to win an argument against someone you liked on the subject of why they didn't like you back. "Whatever," she said. "I'm here with someone."

She then turned and swaggered back to the bar. The blonde she was with was happy to see her, and she took advantage of that by wrapping the girl into a kiss right there at the bar, possibly as a demonstration to the pixie. It was a little immature, perhaps, but very hot. I watched for a moment, in disapproval of course, and then I turned back to the pixie. She sighed and drained the last of her gin and tonic.

"Want another drink?" she asked.

I still had some left in the bottom of my glass. I looked down at it for a second and shook my head. I would've loved to hang out a little more, but the mood appeared to have been spoiled. The pixie obviously wasn't comfortable sharing a bar with that chick called Leah. "I better not," I said. "I have to drive home."

"Me too," she said. "Walk you to your car?"

I sighed and nodded. I guess the date was over.

My car was parked on the curb a short distance from the bar. We walked mostly in silence and it was only about nine o'clock. A very short date, and I didn't really know if I learnt anything from it. I had managed to assess that I was violently attracted to another woman, but that was nothing I didn't know already. And like she said, it wasn't really definitive enough to figure out if I'm gay. Maybe it really was just a very intense infatuation.

"Sorry about Leah," the pixie said, as we came to a stop beside my car. "We haven't been seeing each other much lately and she gets jealous when she sees me with someone else. I'm starting to think she likes me more than I realized."

I nodded, but I understood only vaguely. Friends with benefits is a fine concept, but sex usually leads to attachment. Most people tend to bring their feelings into bed with them. It's only natural. The pixie didn't seem to have the same issue, but she did seem slightly rattled from the encounter.

We were hesitating under a streetlamp beside my car, and I was waiting for some kind of official goodbye. The notion of a kiss had entered my head and caused butterflies to begin fluttering. I had no idea how likely it was that she might make a try for my lips, but the anticipation was killing me. It was only one date, not even a real date, but she didn't seem to be the shy type. But honestly, I didn't even know if I wanted it or not. The streets were empty so I didn't have to be nervous about being in public. I think maybe I did want a kiss. Just a little one.

The pixie sighed, and after a moment of awkward silence, she gave me a smile. Not quite forced, but not without effort. "So," she said. "Can I see you again?"

"Do you want to?" I asked, giving her an option out.

But her smile turned into a grin and she went on more enthusiastically. "Sure," she said. "You seem like a nice person. Just try not to break my heart, okay? If you realize being a lesbian isn't for you, just back out as soon as possible. Don't lead me on."

I felt very guilty at that, as if some part of me was already planning on it, but I nodded. "I won't," I said. Whether I wouldn't break her heart or wouldn't lead her on, I had no idea. All I knew was that I wanted to see her again. I was desperate to see her again.

"Great," she said. "Call me, kay?"

And before I could respond, she stood on her toes, touched my shoulder for balance, and placed a kiss on the corner of my mouth.

I saw it coming and the storm of butterflies that swirled up in my stomach almost caused me to collapse. The touch of her lips set my face on fire and my whole body began throbbing with hot adrenaline. I froze, utterly immobile. I had never felt anything like it in my life, never even imagined. Tingles, sparks, fireworks, shooting stars. I felt like I was going to burst. It was just the briefest touch of her lips, but it was enough to convince me very clearly that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this girl.

I was still dizzy when she rocked back on her heels, and I noticed in the glow of the streetlamp that she sported a blush similar to the one that was cooking my own face. I couldn't be positive, but there were definitely roses in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. She giggled cutely and started backing away. She waved with a wriggle of her fingers and then she turned and started in the direction where she had left her car.

I watched her for a moment, but I didn't want to be creepy, so I quickly turned and fumbled with the keys, trying to open the car door. But my fingers were all trembly, and—

"Oh!" the pixie said, spinning around. She hadn't gotten far, but she had to raise her voice a little so I could hear. "Just so you know," she said, "I really like you, too. I didn't mention that inside, but…yeah. Big crush," she giggled.

I stood there frozen with the keys in my hand, paused in the act of opening the car door. Her posture was coy and she was shuffling backwards on the sidewalk slowly. I managed to give her a nod of acknowledgment, but it was impossible for me to process what she said at the moment. She smiled, such a beautiful smile, and waved one more time. Then she turned and continued on.

For a long moment I couldn't move.

She liked me. The pixie liked me.

I knew I was supposed to get in my car and drive home right now, but with all the emotions building inside me I felt more like screaming out loud and running down the street with my hands on my head. But I managed to contain myself. I forced my fingers to be still and open the door, and then I got in. I started the engine and took a long breath. I had barely had half a glass of beer and yet I felt drunker than I ever had in my life. I didn't even know if it was safe to drive like this, but I had to risk it. I needed to get home where I could collapse in safety. So I swallowed the lump in my throat, pulled away from the curb, and accelerated down the road.

The pixie liked me.

Oh god.

—

Chapter 16:

—

"What do you think of this one?" I asked, plucking the dress from the rack and holding it against my body. It was red, but rather conservative, considering. Short, but not _short_. Form-fitting with a loose skirt. Simple fabric. And twenty percent off, too.

Angela looked it over without much enthusiasm. She touched the material and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger. Then she sighed and let it drop. "I don't know," she said. "I just can't believe you bailed on Mr Masen."

I groaned. How many times was I going to have to hear this? I jiggled the red dress impatiently, like a bull fighter trying to get the attention of the bull.

"Ange, this is a big deal to me," I said. "Try and fucking focus, alright?"

She sighed again. "But you know what the real sad thing is?" she said. "I've known you for almost ten years and this is the first time you've ever asked my advice about what to wear on a date. I think this is even the first time you've bought a new outfit for a date."

"Yeah, well, remind me to never ask again," I said, turning to the nearby mirror to get my own opinion.

"Alright, alright," she said, coming around for a better look, "let me see here." She touched the fabric again and nodded a couple times. "Yeah, it's pretty good. But…"

"But what?"

She shrugged and gave a hesitant little cringe. "Well, I don't know," she said. "Do you really wanna look that sexy? I mean, she's a chick. What if she gets the wrong idea?"

My heart fluttered. That was exactly what I wanted. But in addition to this flutter of delight there was a flicker of annoyance at Angela's denial. Poor chick was worse than me.

"Ange," I said. "It's a date."

"Ick," she said, dropping the fabric and screwing up her face. "Let me get used to it before you just blurt it out like that."

I smiled and shook my head, turning to examine my reflection in the mirror. It really was a nice dress. The color red was a little brazen, perhaps, but it _was_ a date, and I _did_ want to look like I wanted to look good.

The pixie and I had talked a couple times on the phone since meeting at the bar and we'd made a date for Saturday night – which was two days away. It was going to be our first real date, and ever since I'd hung up the phone I had been stricken with the half-desperate urge to look as utterly sexy as social parameters would allow. I had decided to go all out and even buy a new dress – maybe even shoes.

Foolishly, I had asked Angela to accompany me. We hadn't been hanging out much lately and she'd been pretty disappointed to hear that my date with her boss hadn't gone so well. I'd left out the detail that kissing him almost made me puke, but Angela seemed to take it like a tragedy nonetheless. And when I admitted that I'd be seeing a girl on the weekend – well, she was crushed. Angela was one of those people whose acceptance of homosexuality is mostly theoretical – it stops being okay when it starts being your best friend.

So I invited her shopping with me to cheer her up. I didn't care about her fashion advice, but it was nice just to hang, even despite her pouty mood. We'd been roaming the stores all afternoon and to be honest, I found her homophobia kind of cute. Some of her material was quite witty.

"And not just any date," I went on. "I happen to really like this…" I trailed off, struggling for a pronoun that didn't indicate the person I liked was female. "…this _person_ ," I concluded. "So it's important for me to look good. Okay?"

Angela snorted. "Well, if you're the one looking good, I guess she's the one dressing like a slob."

"Okay, now you're just being an asshole," I said. "You're not fooling me with the homophobe routine, Ange. I know some of your best friends are gay."

"Yeah, but not my _best_ friend."

"And for the record, she's fucking adorable," I said, with a touch of heat. "She could throw on a rag and a pair of flats and still walk all over you in a beauty pageant so shut the fuck up with that slob shit."

It came pouring out of me in a quick rush of adrenaline, and I had to admit I was quite proud of myself. I'd never been the type to stick up for her boyfriends, usually preferring to ridicule them behind their backs. I suppose this was even further proof of my budding gayness – not even a single date and I was already biting heads off in her defense.

Angela smirked and even she seemed impressed. "Wow, look at you," she said. "All aggressive. Maybe we should pick up some combat boots while we're here."

I jiggled the dress impatiently. "Are you gonna help me decide, or not?"

"Fine, fine," she said, and took hold of the fabric for a third time. She was going to wear a hole in it if she didn't stop with that. "You sure you wanna wear a dress?"

"Yes," I insisted. "I want to look nice." And, to be honest, I liked dresses and I didn't want to pass up an opportunity to wear one. I had a nice figure and nice legs – forgive me if I like to show them off every so often.

"And where are you going again?" Angela asked.

"To her place," I said. "She's gonna cook."

I said the last part with a smirk; chicks dig a guy who can cook. A lesbian who can cook had to be similarly desirable.

Angela rolled her eyes and released the fabric from her thumb and forefinger. She sighed and put her hands on her hips, looking the dress over one more time. "Well, it's a nice dress," she said. "You'll look very hot. Is that what you want?"

"Well, yeah," I said. "Isn't that the point?"

"Beats me. I never dated a chick."

"I'm pretty sure it's the same as dating anything else."

"Well, you might as well try it on."

"Alright," I said. I turned toward the change rooms, but then I turned back with a smirk. She was being such a homophobe that I couldn't resist teasing her a little. So I put a bit of flirtyness in my smirk and said, "Wanna come with? You could get a closer look."

She chuckled and even blushed a little. "Bella," she said. "If you're gonna start pretending to flirt with me, we're gonna have to stop being friends."

"Don't worry, Ange, I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole."

"Yeah, well, if the pole's more than half an inch thick I could probably use it."

"I thought you didn't wanna flirt?"

"I don't," she said, and waved me away with a hand. "Go try on the dress before I go gay too."

I shook my head, smiling, and went to try on the dress.

I did end up buying it, and I also bought a new pair of shoes – peep-toe pumps in shiny dark red leather. They cost almost a hundred and fifty dollars and I handed the credit card over with a feeling very close to shame. Angela looked on with disapproval and carefully concealed jealousy. It was the most I'd ever spent on shoes in my life, but the approaching date had filled me with such a manic desire to look perfect that I couldn't resist. They would be so awesome with the dress—and nothing else I owned—and I just had to.

So I did. I would've felt more comfortable purchasing condoms and heroin, but I did, and afterwards I went to get my hair done. This was also unprecedented. I had never been particularly fanatical about the upkeep of my hair, and generally I was cool with nothing more than herbal shampoo. But considering I was only two days away from embarking on the biggest date of my life with the most desirable lifeform I had ever encountered, I felt that I really ought to give the wig a professional once over.

The prognosis was positive; the girl said I had beautiful hair and went on to suggest violet highlights. My hair was very dark, almost black, and apparently violet streaks would look amazing. The girl herself had blue streaks in her short black hair, and she did strike me as very cute. Angela was skeptical, but I was strangely excited about the idea. I'd been confused about a lot of things lately, but violet highlights seemed to make sense. Violet highlights wouldn't solve my personal issues, of course, but how could it hurt to add a little color in my life?

My only anxiety was that the pixie would think I had done it deliberately for the date, which while true might also imply I was trying too hard. But it would be worth it if it looked good, and I could always get rid of them tomorrow if I came to my senses.

So I let the girl do her worst, and by the time she was done it was pretty late in the afternoon. I examined myself in the mirror and I was tentatively pleased with the result. The streaks were very dark, almost lost in the darkness of the rest of my hair, and the effect was more enhancement than flamboyance. The girl said I looked amazing and even Angela allowed it looked pretty good. I just hoped the pixie would like it.

And so, after an arduous afternoon of shopping and hair styling that left me physically and financially depleted, I felt there might actually be a slim possibility of looking nice for my date. Angela had taken the afternoon off and soon she would have to go home to her family. We decided to get cappuccinos at a café in the mall before parting ways. While waiting I looked around discreetly to see if anyone had noticed my new highlights. But no one was staring in abject admiration and there were no paparazzi hiding behind the potted fern. I managed not to be disappointed.

The cappuccinos came and Angela had gone a little quiet. She sipped and licked the foam off her lips and then set the cup down on the saucer with a soft click.

"So," she said. "How serious is all this?"

Uh oh. She wanted to be serious. Honestly, I was more comfortable with the harmless homophobia, but I decided to humor her. She was still my best friend, and I was still kind of clueless on the subject; maybe talking about it would help me figure it out properly.

"Pretty serious," I said, then added: "With her, at least. With girls in general? Who knows."

I felt compelled to throw that out there, but deep down I think I was pretty clear on that, too. It didn't escape me that the waitress looked very nice, for instance. I'd do her.

"Guess you'll find out soon enough," Angela said.

I nodded. "Guess so."

Angela sighed, as if all this were somehow a trouble to her. It seemed a little odd. After all, I was the one going gay, and so far I'd managed not to hang myself. Why was she getting all depressed?

"Does it really bother you?" I asked.

"Nah," she said. "I'm just bummed you didn't hit it off with Mr Masen."

I guess that made sense. Despite being married with three kids, she was totally infatuated with the guy. She probably thought I would wind up marrying him and then she could come over to the mansion every day and maybe start up a torrid affair. I felt I should sympathize with her.

"Bad timing, I guess," I said. "A year earlier I would've married the guy."

She heaved another sigh and sipped. Then she sighed again. "He's been moping all week, you know," she said. "I was watching him in a meeting the other day and he just seemed so heartbroken. Just staring out the window, not paying attention to anyone. I think he must've really liked you."

I shook my head and chuckled. "I barely knew the guy, Ange," I said. "And neither do you. He was probably sad they didn't double wax his car or something."

"You're heartless," she said. "And gay."

"Not officially."

"Close enough for discomfort."

I opened my mouth for some witty come back, but Angela's phone buzzed. Which was lucky for me, because I really had nothing. Straight people would always have more ammo for petty taunts than gay people – one of life's many injustices.

"Ugh," Angela said, after checking the message. "I gotta pick Lily up from ballet. Ballet, do you believe it? She's gayer than you."

I thought she was getting her stereotypes a little muddled, but I didn't mention it. A son taking ballet lessons might give a mother cause to worry, but it seemed pretty safe for a daughter.

"She's got a birthday coming up, doesn't she?" I asked.

"Mmhm," Angela mumbled, deep-sipping the rest of her cappuccino. "Next Saturday."

"I'll give you some cash, you buy her a present for me. I never know what to get a kid."

"You gonna be at the party?"

"Aren't you afraid of exposing your daughter to bad influences?"

Angela chuckled. She had stood up and she was fishing a couple bills out of her purse. "Just don't bring a date," she said. "There's a conversation I could avoid. 'Mommy, why is auntie Bella kissing a girl?' 'Oh, they're just very good friends, sweetie.' Ten minutes later she's making out with all her friends."

"I used to do kiss practice with my cousin when I was her age."

"Probably why you're messed up now."

I chuckled as I sipped my coffee, and I almost choked when Angela leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of my head. It was a surprisingly sister-ish gesture that made me raise an eyebrow. Even more surprising was that she didn't die from gay germs.

"Listen, good luck on the date," she said, and combined with the kiss, this was almost touching. But then she added, "And remember, if it doesn't work out, no one's judging. No shame in just experimenting, okay? And if you get it out of your system quick enough, you still might have a chance with Mr Masen."

I sighed, and I guess I should've known better. "I'll keep it in mind," I said, already forgetting. "And thanks for the support, Ange," I added with a hint of sarcasm. "It means a lot."

She smirked and hiked up her handbag. "Don't mention it, honey."

I shook my head and lifted the cup for a sip. I took my time even after Angela was gone, just sitting there in the café and reflecting on my orientation. I hadn't done much else all month. It was strange, but somehow I still didn't feel ready to admit I was gay. I'd have no problem with it if I knew for sure, but it was just too early. As much as Angela's advice was full of shit, there was actually a modicum of truth to it. People—women in particular—go through phases all the time, and before I committed to a label, I wanted to be absolutely certain. Until then, consider me confused – not that it's anyone's business.

In any case, first thing's first; the pixie. Alice. Just thinking about her made me blush in excitement. Two days until our first real date. For her sake, I hope I go gay very quickly. I wanted to be perfect for her, and she obviously preferred her own kind.

Speaking of perfect, was there anything else I needed to do today? I'd bought a new dress and new shoes, and I'd gotten my hair done – that alone was almost insane. But since I'd gone so far already, I figured I might as well go all out – _all_ the way out.

So after I finished the cappuccino, I swallowed my pride and went to get my nails done. Manicure and pedicure – the shoes were opened toed, so it was practically a necessity. I got a facial, too, and since I'd already embarrassed myself so horribly, I felt I might as well do a bit of last minute shopping. Just a few things I wouldn't have felt comfortable buying in front of Angela. Underwear, for instance. Pushup bra and a red thong – god help me. I'm sure the pixie would never be in a position to see it—although the thought did jump start my heart—but better safe than sorry.

And to complete my absolute and utter humiliation, I even submitted myself to a full bikini wax, legs and all. I had a razor at home, of course, but there was really no substitute for hot wax. My legs were two of my best features and I wanted her to drool, damn it.

It was dark by the time I got home. I made myself dinner, wondering what the pixie was going to cook on Saturday. I watched a bit of TV, wondering what the pixie was doing right now. I picked up the phone and looked at the pixie's number, wondering if I was obsessed. Finally I went into my bedroom and spread the day's purchases on the bed, as if to check if they were still as sexy as I thought they were. The dress, the shoes. The thong.

I picked up the thong and looked at it with a whole cloud of butterflies in my stomach. Was I actually going to wear this skimpy piece of silk and lace? Do lesbians even like that? I bit my lip and took a shaky breath. I had no idea if the pixie would be impressed by any of the preparations I had made today, but I think I knew even then that I'd be going all the way if I got a chance. First date or not, I fucking _needed_ that chick.

—

Chapter 17:

—

The pixie lived in an apartment building not very far from my own. I could've walked there, but I didn't walk anywhere in heels if I could avoid it. So I drove, shaking my head the whole way and reflecting on all the things that could go wrong.

What if she doesn't like me?

What if I chicken out at some crucial moment?

What if she doesn't even notice my hair?

It almost didn't even seem worth showing up. Had any woman in the history of modern civilization had to endure a first date so wracked with uncertainty as I faced now? All I could hope for was that a jeep full of drunk teenagers would run a stop light and collide into my Volkswagen, putting me out of my misery. I checked the side streets as I turned the corner, but there, too, I was out of luck.

I was right on time when I arrived at her apartment, and it took me a second or two before I was capable of knocking on the door. I took a deep breath and smoothed my dress. It was my last chance to bail, and I wanted to allow myself enough time to consider it. It could've been so easy – flee back to my car, call in sick as I drove home. But deep down I was simply too desperate to see her. No one had ever affected me the way this girl did, and even though it was strange and scary, it was also pretty fucking awesome. So I huffed out the breath I'd taken, shook my head briskly, and rapped with my knuckles on the door.

Besides, what did I have to be afraid of? She admitted herself that she liked me. And I did max out a credit card in order to buy an outfit especially for tonight. I just hope lesbians are into pumps and sexy makeup. She better notice my fucking hair, or I swear to god—

The door swung open. Her mouth was open to greet me, but then she saw me and my dress. My red, red dress. Her eyes went wide and her mouth stayed open.

"Oh. My. God," she said.

Well. I guess I had nothing to worry about, after all.

"Hi," I said.

Her mouth was still wide open and she was staring me up and down in blatant admiration. " _Wow_ ," she said with emphasis. "You look _incredible_!"

I blushed and shuffled on the spot bashfully. "Thanks," I said, and in my awkwardness, I added: "You too." But that was probably a stupid thing to say; she was wearing a t-shirt with cooking stains on it and she had a dishtowel tucked into her jean's pocket. Just a guess, but maybe she wasn't dressed yet.

She laughed and stepped back from the door to let me in. "Actually, I'm running a little late with dinner," she said. "I haven't changed yet."

"Oh," I chuckled, entering meekly, suddenly shy.

"But wow," she said, swinging closed the door. When I turned around I noticed she had been looking at the seat of my dress. "You look absolutely gorgeous. I think I'm in shock. Come here, let me have a look at you. Jeez, look at that dress. What material is that, is that silk?"

She had taken a pinch of my skirt and was kneading it between her thumb and forefinger. I nodded and tried to ignore the proximity of her hand to my hip-area. It was silk chiffon, actually. It's what gave it that casual, breezy look. Ralph Lauren, baby.

"That's amazing," she said. "Must've been so expensive."

"Actually, I got it cheap. They had a sale this week."

A tiny smirk crossed her lips. "You bought it recently?"

Fuck. I didn't want her to think I had bought the dress specifically to impress her, no matter how true that was, so I hastily made my excuses. "Well, I was at the mall with my friend—she was buying a few things for her kids—and I saw it and I thought it was a pretty good deal, so…"

She nodded and looked my dress over again. That look of awe-struck admiration hadn't left her huge brown eyes and it was starting to make me feel very flattered.

"Well, it's beautiful," she said. "Seriously, you look incredible. I can't get over it. Not just the dress, but your shoes—and your hair! I _love_ the highlights. When did you get them? I don't remember you had highlights the last time I saw you."

A grin broke out over my face and I touched my hair self-consciously. I was hoping she'd notice, but again, I couldn't let her assume I'd gotten them specifically to impress her.

"My friend, Angela, she was getting her hair done so I tagged along," I said. "And the girl there said it would look nice, so I thought I might as well."

She was nodding as I spoke, as if agreeing with the wisdom of the decision. "It's beautiful," she said. "It really suits you."

I blushed, but managed to refrain from a schoolgirl giggle. "Thanks."

She was still nodding. Nodding and smiling and staring. The silence grew and for a second she seemed too distracted by my face to notice. But then she snapped out of it and giggled at herself.

"Well, I better get changed," she said, slightly embarrassed, already backing away. "I'll be back in a minute, I'll just—and those shoes!" she squealed suddenly. "Oh my god, I'm so jealous. Peep toe with a patent bow – that's just poetry in leather."

I chuckled and shifted on the spot. My shoes had been embarrassingly expensive, but right now it really did seem worth it.

"Okay, I better get dressed," she said, backing away, grinning like a fool. "Can you keep an eye on the kitchen for me? I checked with Jess, and she said you're not a big fan of meat, so I'm making a marinated baked salmon."

Suddenly I was aware of the smell drifting from the kitchen, a tantalizing aroma of soy and ginger. I looked off at the kitchen and smiled at her. "Mmm," I said. "Sounds good."

"It's delicious, you'll love it. Just make sure the oven doesn't blow up while I'm gone, okay?"

I chuckled and nodded. "Okay."

She giggled and kept backing away. She hadn't turned around yet because her eyes were still glued to my dress. I seemed to have truly knocked her socks off, but I wasn't sure why. I was a decent looking chick, sure, and I did make an extra-effort tonight – but I was no supermodel. But maybe that only made it sweeter how she couldn't stop staring at me. It was nice to have our roles reversed for a change – usually it was me staring and stammering like something stupid.

Finally she managed to tear her eyes away and scurry off to her bedroom – where she would no doubt get naked before putting new clothes on. I tried not to let this thought destroy too much of my appetite, but the notion of a naked female was something I was still slightly conflicted about. Boobs had become a regular fixture in my fantasies, but in real life? Um…we'll see. Either way, there was no pressure tonight. Not on a first date. As much as my inner lesbian would love to go all the way and just stay there, I was pretty sure the pixie wasn't that kind of girl. It's bad policy to put out on the first date; it just is.

With a sigh, I set my purse on the kitchen counter and peered into the oven. It smelt delicious and I could feel the heat radiating onto my face. I sighed again and thought about how perfect this woman was. Pretty, charming. And I didn't have to try the fish to know she was an amazing cook. Does she have any flaws at all? None that I could think of. I suppose she could be a little more liberal on her stance concerning straight chicks, but maybe she wasn't as closed minded as she claimed. After all, here I am. The only label I wore was the designer one on my dress, yet she was still willing to give me a chance.

"Okay, I'm back," announced a voice to my left.

I turned away from the hot oven and my face went even hotter; the pixie had emerged from her bedroom in a slinky black dress that made my heart slam in my chest at the sight of it. It was perhaps a little formal, but I got the impression she wanted to show me up a little. To prove she was no slouch.

And she did.

The dress was the quintessential little black dress; short, tight, body-hugging. She wore black heels and walked with grace. She had fixed up her face with makeup and she was fastening a hoop earring as she smiled with red and sexy lips. The dress fit her small frame like a glove and mingled into the flashes of attraction that were flaring through my body was a healthy amount of jealousy. The dress had to have been a size three, or even a two. Supermodels be dammed; this girl was supernatural. Looking at her made me feel fat and bland.

"Well?" she grinned, and twirled on the spot. "What do you think? Now you have to awkwardly strain for compliments with the same enthusiasm I showed for you. Go ahead, I'm waiting."

She put her hands on her tiny hips and waited expectantly. I stared at her, open mouthed like the fish in the oven, and all I could say was:

"Uhh…"

Well. Nice to know she was still capable of rendering me spastic.

She giggled, as if my stunned stupidity was flattering enough, and waved a hand. "I'm kidding, don't worry," she said. "Come on, let's eat. I'm starving, aren't you?"

Actually, I was more horny than anything else, but I managed a nod as she hustled past me into the kitchen. As my head swung around to follow her I realized I was actually dizzy. I leaned on the counter for a moment and forced myself under control.

It was almost half an hour before we actually sat down. The pixie had turned the lights down in the living room and lit candles on the coffeetable. She had opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses and the fish was served on heavy white plates, drizzled with a soy and honey sauce and decorated with snowpeas and coriander leaves. Between the two plates sat a small bowl of lime wedges for squeezing and two green salads. It looked almost restaurant quality. We sat on the sofa and after taking my first bite I changed my mind: it _was_ restaurant quality.

While we were eating I noticed a small stack of blu-rays on the lamptable beside the sofa.

"Mmm," she said, noticing me notice. "Those are the movies I rented. I didn't know what kind of movies you liked, so I played it safe and got a couple romantic comedies. Do you like the fish?"

I had picked up the pile to examine them and I nodded at the question. "It's amazing."

"Oh, that one's a lesbian romance," she said, pointing at it with her fork. "Have you seen it?"

I glanced at her and turned the cover. On the back there was a shot of two girls holding hands. I read the blurb briefly and shook my head. "Um, no, I don't think so."

"It's one of my favorites," she said. "I thought you might want to see it, since you're new to the whole thing. A lot of girls when they first realize, they get curious. Besides, I never really enjoyed regular romance. Just can't really get into it. What do you think?"

I nodded, still reading. "Okay."

"Cool," she said. "Any progress in that area, by the way? Or are you still trying to figure it out?"

I chuckled and put the movie back. "Still trying."

She giggled and squeezed a lime over her fish. "Well, it takes time," she said. "Orientation's a weird thing. It never changes, but sometimes it gets confused. Even for years at a time. Girls who thought they were straight turn out to be gay, girls who thought they were gay turn out to be straight. People overestimate how much of sexuality is biological. A lot of it is environmental. After all, it's impossible to be gay if circumstances don't allow it. Impossible to realize, even."

I nodded, toying with my salad. "Yeah."

"In a way, it's good that you're so cautious about it," she went on. "I remember my first girlfriend after college. She realized she liked girls and right away she went around telling everyone she's a lesbian. As if it was cool or something. I was pretty crazy about her at the time, so I didn't question it. Even when she started making out with me in front of guys. For attention or whatever. Then about a year later, she realizes she still likes guys. Never really stopped. So suddenly she's not a lesbian anymore, she's bi. She kept dating me because she loved me, but I guess I should've known better."

She trailed off and poked at her fish. She had the beginnings of a bitter expression on her face, and I got the impression that she was stopping herself before she started ranting on a sore subject. But I was curious. I had stopped eating and I wanted to hear the rest.

"What happened?" I asked.

She looked at me and hesitated for a second. Then she picked up her wine and shrugged. "Well, we kept dating for another year or so, but slowly she started losing interest in the sexual side of things. Then one day she met some guy at work and it's like, 'Oops, I guess I'm straight after all.'" She snorted bitterly and put the glass down. "That's what hurt the most. The fact that she waited until she had a backup before admitting it. Meanwhile, she was stringing me along, making me believe she loved me. Making me love _her_. When a real relationship was never going to be possible. I can understand getting confused about your orientation, but it's just low how she handled it."

I completely agreed and I nodded. "I'm sorry," I said.

She glanced at me and a little smile moved her mouth. She gave a chuckle and shook her head. "Doesn't matter," she said. "I just hate girls like that. I mean, the only reason she ever claimed to be a lesbian was because it excited her and got her attention. That's what really makes me angry, because it's girls like her that create the negative stereotypes that real lesbians have to deal with. Girl's like her are the reason my mother kept telling me I'd grow out of it or that I haven't met the right man yet. They make lesbianism seem weak or transitional – all because they were too stupid to do a little self-reflection before opening their big fucking mouths."

I tried not to smile. Obviously there was some heartbreak there and even a bit of political principle - but honestly I just thought it was cute to see her lose her temper. The silence dragged for a second and she seemed a bit embarrassed. She gave me a quick smile and chuckled to herself.

"Sorry," she said. "Sometimes I rant. Point is, she was never gay to begin with. That's why it's a good thing you're taking this stuff seriously. Labels aren't necessary, but it's always best to be honest with yourself. To follow your heart. The worst thing you can do is let your true self become muddled by being short-sighted about it."

I nodded thoughtfully. "That's good advice."

"I know, I'm a fucking fortune cookie," she giggled. "How's the fish?"

"It's delicious," I said, taking another mouthful.

"I'm glad you like it. I was gonna take you out to eat, but I figured you might not be very comfortable in public."

"This is better, anyway. You're an amazing cook. It's a pretty advanced recipe. I don't think I could do it so perfect."

"Yeah," she giggled. "I'll make a great wife someday." She bumped me with her shoulder coyly. "Or is it too early to start hinting at marriage yet?"

I laughed and almost choked. "Maybe a couple more dates."

"Well, how many can I book in advance? If you're gonna wear a dress like that every time, I better reserve as many as possible."

My whole body started tingling and I took a sip of wine to cover my excitement. "Let's take it one at a time," I said, although if I was being completely honest, I could've moved in with her that night.

After dinner we watched the movie together, sitting side by side in our date dresses, chatting, laughing at certain scenes. The pixie had slipped off her shoes and she was sitting with her legs tucked underneath her. The movie was pretty good, but I couldn't stop glancing at the girl on my right. She was just so exquisite. Sometimes our eyes would catch and each time would be a very surreal moment. Eye contact with a girl. A date with a girl. Sitting on a girl's couch in a girl's apartment with a girl's smile making me flutter inside. I'd only had a couple glasses of wine but I felt drunker than I ever had in my life.

At one point I excused myself to use the bathroom. I snooped around a little, but mostly I was impressed. Clean tub. Seat down.

When I went back to the living room I hesitated before sitting down. All night it had been occurring to me that a couple on a date would probably cuddle when watching a movie together and that cuddling a girl like the pixie would probably be heaven on earth. I was simply unaware of how to go about it. My extreme levels of self-consciousness made any kind of natural behavior impossible, and the pixie herself seemed determined to make me as comfortable as possible. She had a cushion in her lap and she looked at me when I hesitated too long. I smiled at her, my heart hammering, and then very deliberately, I went over and sat down—

Right beside her.

So close our legs touched. She was sitting right in the corner of the sofa, so it's not like I couldn't have put plenty of space between us if I wanted. It was a signal, pure and simple. And, happily, she seemed to pick up on it. She untucked her legs from underneath her and took my hand and put my arm around her shoulders.

"Do you mind?" she asked, snuggling closer to me under my arm. "I had a long day, I'm kind of tired."

My heart was slamming and the whole right side of my body was on fire. "Okay."

She snuggled closer, her warmth driving me crazy. She was getting comfortable, but then some scent seemed to distract her. "Mmm, you smell wonderful," she said, pausing to sniff the air around me. "What is that?"

"Cashmere Mist," I said, offering my wrist. "It's jasmine and vanilla."

She sniffed my wrist, inhaling deeply. "Mmm," she said. "I love it."

Then she took my hand, put it in her lap, and held it. Tingles began to travel up my arm. She laid her head on my shoulder and I froze completely still, unable to move or think. My arm was wrapped around her tiny shoulders and I could feel her warmth against my body. So unlike anything I'd experienced with a guy. So small, so soft. So lovely. The soft scent of her hair was dancing in my head and I couldn't even follow the movie. All I could do was sit there with my arm around her and try not to ruin the moment by getting too horny.

The movie was over far too soon and I was dreading the ending. Not because it was a particularly suspenseful film—it was actually a comedy—but because when the movie was over, the date was over. And that was the real tragedy.

But alas, movies nor dates last forever and soon the credits were rolling. I felt like crying when we couldn't cuddle no more, but I indulged her by talking about how much I liked the movie as we cleared up the wine glasses and blew out the candles. I offered to help her with the dishes, a shameless attempt to prolong the affair, but she said she wasn't going to bother with that till morning. We had an awkward moment of silence in the kitchen where neither of us really wanted to go, but it was inevitable; she walked me to the door.

It was awful. Because I truly did not want to go. I really didn't. It almost felt like I was afraid. It was the weirdest feeling. The only thing I could compare it too was my first day of school when I was a kid. I wanted to stay with the pixie the same way I had wanted to stay with my mother.

"Well, I guess this is goodnight," she said, holding the door open. "I really had a great time. Good thing tomorrow's Sunday. I wouldn't be able to concentrate if I had to go to work, I'd just be walking around in a love-struck daze all day."

She finished with a giggle and I smiled through my anxiety. God, she was amazing.

"So," she said. "Call me?"

I nodded. "Of course."

She nodded, too. Then she waited. A smirk appeared on her red lips and she put her hands on the hips of her black dress and began tapping a black pump impatiently.

"Well?" she said. "Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight? I made you dinner and everything."

The question took me by surprise. I had fully been expecting a kiss, of course, but I hadn't been aware it was my responsibility. I was still unsure how same-sex couples determined these things.

"Oh," I said. "I thought you were going to."

"I could," she said, "but that would be too easy. Besides, it would be nicer if you did it. I think I deserve a little reward for all my hard work, don't you?

I chuckled and looked aside. A blush had engulfed my face and excitement was galloping in my chest like a stallion. I looked at her, looked at her lips, and looked away again.

"Sorry," I said. "I'll need a minute."

She giggled. "Take your time."

I laughed and shook my head. "This is pretty tough," I said. "At least with guys all I had to do was play defense."

"Girls are trickier," she agreed, "but we tend to be cuter, too."

"You can say that again," I said, and she giggled. I forced myself to look at her and I was stunned at how difficult it was. She was just so pretty. Her huge brown eyes blinked up at me and my throat went tight. I took a deep breath. It came out shaky. She smiled and waited for her kiss.

"Okay," I said, as if to psyche myself up. I gestured at her face with my hand. "May I?"

"Please do," she said, and I let my hand cup her cheek. Her smile went just a little wider and for a second I stared at how beautiful she was. She moved her cheek against my hand, just slightly, and finally I bent and leaned to her lips.

It was going to be my first kiss with a girl and the anticipation was like a cyclone in my stomach. She was very patient. She tilted her face a little as I leaned in. Smiling. I leaned in closer, closer. My eyes falling shut. It was probably nothing new to her, nothing special. But to me it was everything. Not just because she was a girl, but because she was the best girl I had ever seen or heard of. The most desirable girl I could ever imagine. So I leaned slowly, savoring the anticipation, and finally, finally – our lips connected.

That one touch seemed to snap something inside me. I froze for a second, but only a second. My heart gave one huge slam in my chest and suddenly I was kissing her.

I didn't seem to have any control over it. A low moan came from my throat and my mouth moved all on its own, pushing against the other girl's lips, softly at first but then more firm. My hand had cupped the nape of her neck and she lifted her face to allow me better access, her mouth falling open. This drove me crazy and a sudden heat blazed between my legs. My tongue darted into her mouth and suddenly I wasn't capable of thinking anymore.

We stumbled back into her apartment, locked at the mouths and tripping in our heels. I bumped into a kitchen stool and sat down accidently. Her arms were around my neck and she didn't stop tonguing me for a second. After a while she pulled me up again and we staggered toward the living room. We bumped into the sidetable and tipped over the lamp. No one paused to straighten it. I don't think either of us even noticed. The corner of the sidetable had put a sting in my hip where I had bumped it, but I hardly noticed that, either.

We collapsed onto the sofa, me first and her on top. We squirmed into some kind of comfortable position and began to suck face like teenagers, moaning loudly as our tongues danced and our hands roamed our dresses. There seemed to be so much passion between us we didn't know what to do with it. I could taste the spice and the wine in her mouth and after a while I flipped her over and began to kiss her with new urgency. I didn't know what was happening to me, all I knew was that it had never happened before. I had never felt anything close to this amount of desire and longing. This _need._

I cupped her smooth face and forced my tongue into her mouth, kissing her everywhere inside, my heart flaring at how she let her mouth fall open even wider to allow me access. I used that access to kiss her deeper and deeper, letting my tongue swirl around hers as my pussy burned between my legs. She was making little whimpering sounds, her fingernails digging into my back, and I was rubbing my body against her. I felt like an animal for how I was attacking her mouth like this, but I couldn't help it. She was driving me crazy.

Eventually I realized I was running out of breath, and I had to slow down. I gasped and kept kissing her, little kisses on her lips, and she kept kissing back. I stroked her face and kissed her some more, gasping and gulping down air. Her face was so soft, so smooth. I kissed her and kissed her. Finally I collapsed with my face in the crook of her neck and lay there breathing and trembling. After a while I sat up and began to straighten my dress.

She sat up beside me and gave a breathless chuckle. "Wow," she said, slipping an arm around my waist. "Repressed much?"

"Sorry," I said. "I don't know what came over me."

I glanced at her, to see if she was mad, but she only smiled. She brushed a lock of my dark and disheveled hair away from my face and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. "Don't be," she said. "That was the best goodnight kiss I ever had."

I was still breathing deeply and my next words came out before I even had a chance to think them through:

"Does it have to be goodnight?"

She froze. Then she lowered her arm and tried to force herself into a reluctant attitude.

"Well, I'm not sure if that's a good idea," she said. "It's not smart to go too fast, and besides, you're not even sure if—"

"I'm sure," I said, cutting her off. I took her hand and nodded into her eyes with cloudy desperation. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life. This is real for me, this is what I want. I've never felt this way about anyone. Please?"

She looked at me for a moment. Her eyes were clearer than mine, and she seemed to be well aware that what I felt now was by no means how I'd feel in the long run. But I was hot, I was horny, and I was throwing myself at her; she nodded.

"Okay," she said.

—

Chapter 18:

—

In a movie this would've been where we scene-cut to the bedroom, tear off each other's clothes, and tumble into bed before ravishing each other in some passionate fashion. Or perhaps we wouldn't have even made it to the bedroom, perhaps she would've simply tossed me behind the couch and banged me in the floor like an animal – god knows I was horny enough.

The decision to have sex, however, seemed to have sobered her a little, and it occurred to me that she may've been under a bit of pressure. Not only did she have to make a good impression date-wise, but it was obviously my first time with a girl, and she knew I was nowhere near certain about my orientation. What if she wasn't good enough? What if I didn't like it? What if I backed out before we even got started? I'm sure those things were running through her head the same way they were running through mine. The only difference was that I wasn't under any threat of shame and rejection.

It was funny; we hadn't even started yet, and it was already clear to me how different it was going to be from a guy. I could tell from how much my heart ached when I looked at the expression on her pretty face. I'd never felt that for a guy. With a guy it was so much simpler. With a guy it was all about me. We did what I wanted, when I wanted, and if I didn't want no more then I guess it was goodnight buddy boy. I wasn't accustomed to being overly concerned with my partner's feelings, yet here I was, my heart all swollen in my chest with the urge to make her feel like a princess.

The awkward silence didn't last long and it was eventually broken as she laughed at the shy way I was sitting there on the couch. I smiled, but didn't really say anything. I had decided to let her be the assertive one—since I obviously had no clue what I was doing—and after confirming our plans she asked if I wanted anything else to drink. I didn't. She nodded. Then she laughed again. She joked about having a hygiene fetish and she asked if I would be comfortable if we could shower first – to get rid of all the makeup and perfume. It sounded like a good idea to me. Being so close to her had caused me to sweat under my breasts all night, so I could probably do with a quick hosing down.

We took turns, me second. There were rubber duck stickers on the floor of her tub and being naked in her apartment was almost more than I could stand without touching myself. But since I'd be having sex in a minute, such an act would be largely redundant. I washed myself with coconut scented shower gel and shivered erotically under the warm water and the gentle drag of the loofa. My body was in an extremely sensitive state, and I was half worried I'd actually come there in the shower. I couldn't imagine what was going to happen when the pixie actually got her hands on me. I didn't think a girl could actually explode in bed, but there did seem to be a risk.

I washed my hair as well and wrung it out like a rag as I stepped out of the tub. I toweled myself down and tried to get my heartbeat under control, but it was difficult. Very difficult. I felt almost delirious. In a few minutes I was going to step out of this bathroom and have sex with another woman. A girl. A chick. A lifeform with boobs and a cute ass. With a pretty smile and big beautiful eyes. The thought almost made me whimper. I didn't know if I could do it. Not because I didn't want it, but because of how badly I wanted it. It was scary. I wanted it more than anything I could remember wanting, and that didn't seem right somehow.

But it didn't matter. It was too late to back out now, and frankly, I was just too horny.

So I took a deep breath and wrapped the towel around my torso. It was only slightly less coverage than my dress, but I felt a hundred times more naked. I contemplated putting my underwear back on, but that seemed silly. I went to open the door and paused. I was throbbing between my legs and I shook my head in shame; since when am I such a slut?

I emerged into the bedroom and found the pixie turning down the bed like a curiously attired chambermaid. She had showered first and she was wearing a pink tanktop with kittens on it and a pair of pink panties. Boyleg briefs. Very snug fit. She was leaning over the bed as she adjusted the covers and my mouth went dry as I looked at her pantie-clad ass.

Oh boy.

The throbbing between my legs became even more pronounced and I struggled not to faint as she turned around and saw me. She smiled shyly and for a moment we were silent. I didn't know what to say. All I could do was wait and watch her as she stood there half-naked, shuffling in the carpet with her bare feet. A coy little blush came over her face. She swayed on the spot, left, right, and finally she spoke.

"So," she said. "First time with a girl?"

I think we were both pretty clear on that, but I nodded. We had to break the ice somehow. She giggled and took a couple steps toward me.

"Well, don't worry," she said. "It's easy and super-fun. You'll like it, trust me. Even if you're not…"

I chuckled and looked away bashfully. She was standing right in front of me, eyelevel to my mouth. Even without makeup she was gorgeous. Her lips were a soft shade of pink and her eyelashes were supernaturally long and thick. The only light in the room was the lamp on the bedside table.

She sought my eyes for a moment and finally I looked at her. She smiled and lifted a hand. She touched my bare shoulder and made me shiver. She smiled wider, gaining confidence, and took my hand.

"Come on," she said. "Let's sit down. I'll go slow, okay?"

"Okay," I said, and let her lead me to the bed.

It felt like my first time all over again, but completely different. My first time had been in highschool, senior year. At the beach – sand in my hair, sand in my ass. Very romantic. I hadn't even wanted to do it, and I sure didn't enjoy it. But this…This was different. This was how a first time was supposed to feel. Romantic, exciting, just a little scary. I felt like I had regressed into a total virgin.

We sat on the edge of the bed and started kissing. She started out slow and passionate, her hand weaving into my damp hair as she pulled my mouth into hers. I moaned and let my lips fall open, letting her tongue have its way with mine. Already a deep lust was brooding between my legs. I clenched my thighs closed and squirmed softly. I had no idea how I was going to survive the night if a simple kiss was enough to melt me. I had been worried about chickening out at some point, but maybe I should be more worried about premature orgasm. That would be embarrassing.

The kiss began to slow down and then she broke it off, gazing at me breathlessly. "Listen," she said. "If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just let me know and I'll stop. Same with you, okay? Otherwise, just be natural."

I couldn't help it; I smirked.

"Natural?"

I mean, really.

 _Natural?_

It would've been awful if my little quip had offended her, but she only smiled. "Just relax," she said, stroking my cheek and placing a kiss on my lips. "A first time should be special. I'll make it special for you, okay?"

She said this looking into my eyes with a reassuring smile and I nodded. "Okay."

"Good," she whispered.

Her hand had been caressing the nape of my neck and now she let it fall to the front of the towel. My heart jumped. I stiffened, realizing what she was about to do. She hooked a finger in the neckline of the towel and began to tug it down slowly. She watched my eyes for permission, and I didn't move. I couldn't believe what was happening. I was naked under the towel, and—

"Oh god."

It was me who said it. She had tugged the towel below my breasts and my breasts were now exposed.

They were so sensitive I could feel the air pass over them. I had nothing to be ashamed of, of course. My breasts were two of my best features – large, nicely shaped. Natural. But for some reason I'd never been more self-conscious about them in my whole life. She looked at them and smiled. Two milky white mounds topped with big stiff nipples. The corner of her smile quirked up and she lifted her eyes to mine.

"Is this okay?" she asked, letting her hand cup one of them.

I nodded, trying not to panic. "Yes," I said, but honestly I wasn't sure. The chick was touching my boobs. That's sexual assault, missy.

But I suppose I did give consent, so it would've been ungracious to call the police. So I sat there and let her stroke them with both hands, my breath hitching and my whole chest shuddering. My pussy was burning and I think I finally understood the male-anxiety of lasting a decent amount of time. Because if this kept up I might as well just roll over and go to sleep right now. I was quite literally on the edge.

"You have beautiful breasts," she said, kneading them with her tiny little hands. Her tiny little _girl's_ hands.

"Thanks," I managed to say.

She smiled, and then she leaned to my chest and—

"Oh god."

She took a nipple into her mouth and suckled at it briefly. Like trying a lollipop. I shuddered and tried to take it, but I couldn't. It was too much. I could feel an orgasm threatening my lower body, and I didn't want to come yet. I didn't even know if I wanted to come at all.

So I tore my chest away, twisting my whole torso away from her mouth. I covered my breasts with a forearm and sat there on the edge of the bed, trembling and trying not to shudder. She sat up and looked at me anxiously. I wouldn't make eye contact. I was too embarrassed.

"You okay?" she asked.

There was the beginnings of disappointment in her voice, and I quickly went to reassure her. "Yes," I said, swallowing to wet my dry mouth. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I just… I just need to…"

I made a gesture with my free hand. I had no idea what it was supposed to mean and I had no idea what to tell her. How could I explain what was wrong when I had no clue myself?

She nodded and gave me a look, as if trying to decide if she should believe me. My towel was pooled in my lap and I was naked from the waist up. God, I was horny. Never been so fucking horny in my life. She put a hand on my bare shoulder and caressed it. I turned my eyes to hers meekly and tried not to come at her touch.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked gently.

I kept my eyes on hers, a dark blush suffusing my face, and shook my head. "No," I said. "Don't stop. Please fucking don't stop."

Her smile tilted upwards and she started kissing me again. I moaned and made an effort to respond, letting my hand cup her slender neck as I pushed my tongue against hers. I could feel the soft hairs at her nape and I moaned again. One of her hands was at my breasts again and I gasped as my nipple was pinched between her thumb and forefinger. I put my hand over hers and held it there at my chest, pressing it against my breast, letting her know I was okay with it. I was getting closer and closer to orgasm and finally I had to break the kiss before I had an accident.

She was breathless and she gave a little laugh. She kissed me a couple more times, threading her hand in my hair, and then she tossed her chin toward the headboard and said, "Shuffle back, baby."

I looked at the bed and looked at her. "Shuffle back?"

"Lay down," she giggled, stroking my hair as if I was something cute. "So I can do you properly."

I gulped.

I guess this was it. Sex with a chick and not just any chick – this chick who had triggered some kind of love at first sight in me. This chick who was beautiful and sweet and completely perfect. She wanted me to lay back so she could do me. Well. I just hoped I didn't die in the process.

I did as she said, shuffling backwards toward the headboard, keeping my legs firmly closed. The towel kept wanting to slip away, but I held it in place. The pixie set one of the pillows against the headboard and I laid back against it. My hair was still damp and it hung in ropy locks on my shoulders. My chest was completely bare. She leaned over me and kissed me and her hands stroked my breasts and I was almost coming again.

Then she was pulling away the towel. I made a little meep of protest, but she didn't get scared this time. She smiled at me, watching my eyes to make sure I was okay, and then she turned her attention to my lap. She pulled away the towel and tossed it aside.

My thighs were clenched but I was so naked. Naked and waxed and all smooth and horny. I could've cried from embarrassment. My legs were drawn up slightly and she was kneeling by my feet. She giggled and put her hands on my knees. She leaned and kissed each kneecap and then she smiled at me and attempted to ease them open gently. I kept them closed and she giggled again.

"Don't be shy," she said, stroking my legs up and down as if to comfort me. "Let me see you."

I hoped my face didn't look as doomed as I felt, but what choice did I have? I didn't know why I was being so silly. Bella Swan had always been cool, confident, composed. She was no squeamish little virgin. Then again, she had never had sex with a girl, either, so maybe she had an excuse.

My legs were opening automatically. All I had to do was unclench and let her hands do the rest. Her smile widened as she eased them slowly open. My heart dropped. Her eyes lowered to my wet mound and her hands stroked the insides of my thighs. I felt a spike of hornyness and I had to fight to contain myself – it wouldn't be the first time she had made me come at a glance.

But I managed to hold it back. For now. My legs were spread completely open and her smile went a touch wolfish. My pussy was wet and I could feel the air on my wetness.

"Mmm," she said, smiling at me impishly. "What a pretty little pussy."

The statement made my stomach roll and I could only reply with, "Oh god."

She giggled and massaged the insides of my thighs. "I know," she said. "Scandalous, isn't it? Watch this."

And with that, she leaned down and placed a soft little kiss directly on my pussy. I saw it coming and almost kicked her away. But I didn't. I tried to brace myself instead, but that was useless. I felt her lips brush against my wet and freshly-waxed pussy and I gasped and shivered and shrank away.

"Oh shit," I said. "Oh fuck."

She sat up and giggled, kneeling there between my legs as I hyperventilated from one little kiss. "Wow," she said. "You're kind of horny, aren't you?"

I had squeezed my eyes shut and I nodded, trying not to breathe too fast. "Yes," I said. "Fuck. Sorry, this is all just… I mean, I never…"

She giggled and her hands had gone back to massaging my thighs. "Don't worry, I know it's your first time with a girl," she said. "I'll make the most of it, I promise. Just relax. Wanna see my boobs?"

I opened my eyes. "Huh?"

"My boobs," she said. "Wanna see?"

I swallowed. She had taken the hem of her top in her hands and there was an playful brightness in her eyes. She was waiting for an answer and the look on her face reminded me of a school teacher trying to encourage a shy child to participate in some activity.

For a second I was stumped. I had been fine in my passive role, but I wanted her to enjoy herself, too. My eyes flickered over her breasts, perky little mounds bundled up in the warm pink cotton of her tanktop, and the growl in my stomach told me that I really did want to see them. So I nodded and swallowed again, licking my dry lips.

"Sure," I meeped.

She grinned and pulled off her top. No bra underneath. She tossed the top aside and knelt there topless. Her breasts were small, but beautifully shaped, and her nipples were pink and large and very swollen. They were the perfect accent to her slender torso and the sight of them made my stomach lurch in hunger.

"Oh god," I said.

She chuckled and blushed a little. "You keep saying that."

I raked a hand through my hair, staring. "Jesus," I said, changing it up.

She giggled and shook her head. Then she looked at me and smirked.

"Come here," she said, and started leaning toward me.

Topless. Her bare little breasts were coming toward me and I felt my own tingle in response. She leaned across me, between my legs, and captured my lips in a kiss, pressing her chest into mine. My arms wrapped around her automatically, holding her tightly. She moaned and deepened the kiss, rubbing her breasts into mine.

It was indescribable. Her body so much smaller than a man's. Her back so slim, so smooth under my hands. Her hard little nipples, her soft breasts. Her tongue. Scent of vanilla in her hair and roses on the pillow and bedsheets. I moaned and let my hands cup her breasts. Stroking them as she kissed me, kissed me. I stroked her sides, her waist. Her tongue swirled in my mouth and after a while she took my hand. She guided it against her body, pressing it into her chest before lowering it to her hip. I could feel the soft cotton of her panties and I let my hand slip inside. I caressed her butt, giving it a little squeeze. She moaned and her own hand descended between our bodies. It went between my legs and my whole body twitched as she started fingering me.

I groaned and tossed my head. So close. My head was reeling. I'd never felt anything like it before. She seemed to be weaving some kind of strange magic on me, some exotic enchantment. Lesbomancy. She was kissing my chin, my jawline. Kisses on my neck, my collarbone. "Are you ready?" she asked, nuzzling the crook of my neck.

"Yes," I whispered, squirming under her hands and mouth.

Her hand cupped my breast and she kept kissing my neck. "Mmm," she moaned. "I'm gonna do you so good. You're so hot. I could just eat you up…"

Her lips were descending on my chest, my breasts. She cupped them in her hands and squeezed them and made them swell. She took my hard and swollen nipples into her mouth, one then the other, suckling at them each in turn, licking at them like ice-cream cones, moaning as if they tasted nice. I watched her with lidded eyes, propped up on the pillow, my chest electrified. This pretty girl, sucking my tits. It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen. My breath pounded in and out of my chest and it was a miracle I hadn't come yet.

My pussy was soaked and my thighs were slathered. Her lips continued to descend toward the wetness. She placed kisses on my belly, a small ring around my navel. She shifted lower on the bed and her lips began kissing my hips, my pelvis. I forced my legs open further, waiting, and—

"Oh fuck," I groaned, as she dragged a long hot lick across my pussy. I groaned again and squirmed and almost whimpered. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck."

A loud moan rose from between my legs and suddenly her mouth was mashed against my pussy. I looked down across my body and saw her laying facedown between my legs, moaning as she ate me out like a juicy fruit. I watched her, my chest heaving and sheened with sweat. My face was on fire and clumps of hair were stuck to my sweaty forehead and my whole body was wet and hot. She moaned deep into my core and I felt her tongue slide deeply into my vagina and suddenly I couldn't take it anymore.

I'd been on the verge ever since I stepped out of the shower, and finally it was too much. I could feel it building inside of me like a hurricane and there was nothing I could do but just let it go. My mouth was open and the breath was rushing in and out of me like a train as I stared down at the top of her pretty head. My hands were clenched in her hair and my legs were so open it felt like I was splitting. Her hands were hooked around my thighs and she was tongue-kissing my vagina so hard it felt like my heart was going to fail. I groaned, a strange sound of lust and helplessness, my eyes fluttering closed. My breathing became faster and deeper. My chest heaving. My heart pounding. Another strange groan escaped me and finally my head tossed back as the biggest orgasm of my life erupted inside me.

I shuddered and went limp, a fresh sheen of sweat breaking out over my body. She had probably noticed that I had come; my moans had sounded like something between the bawl of a cow and the wail of a mental patient. I could feel her continue to kiss between my legs and for a moment I simply lay there, trembling, shivering. My eyes were closed and when I opened them she was kneeling at my side. She was smiling and her lips and her cheeks were glossy from my arousal – the thought made me dizzy.

"Hey," she said. "Everything okay?"

I nodded into the pillow, exhausted, still laying there. I didn't have the brain power to process any denial or repression right now. "Yes," I wheezed, completely fucked from that massive orgasm. "That was…That was fucking amazing."

She giggled and put a hand on my naked hip. I was laying on my side and she began caressing it fondly. "Good," she said. "I'm glad you liked it. It was good for me too," she added with a giggle. "You're pretty yummy."

I cracked an eye open to see if she was joking. I had never tried pussy, obviously, so I had no idea what it was supposed to taste like. I did know that performing oral sex on men was by no means palatable. But she only smiled and caressed my hip. She seemed to be serious and the sentiment made my heart warm. I was yummy. How nice. I was still breathing deep and she smirked at the lidded look in my eye.

"Want me to do you again quickly?" she asked.

At first I was confused. "Huh?"

But she didn't explain, she just grinned and let her hand slip between my thighs. The boldness of the move made my heart jump – and, unbelievably, I felt a renewed stirring in my pussy.

"Lay back," she said. "Just relax. One more won't hurt."

I did as she said, excitement tingling in my chest. I rolled onto my back and let my legs fall open. Self-consciousness crawled over me, but I said nothing. Just watched her. She was kneeling at my side, dressed in nothing but panties. She smiled at me and didn't speak. Her hand was between my legs and she was using her fingertips to stroke my lowerlips. Just gently. I let my legs open a little more and soon I could feel a heat beginning to build under her continual caress.

She did it very slowly, very gently. Watching my face. Her finger was tracing circles around my clit, small circles without pause. My breathing picked up. My nipples were hard. Her eyes would sometimes drift over my naked chest and it made me excited when she looked. My mouth was open. My eyes lidded and blinking. Her finger kept going in circles around my clit, slow and methodical, never stopping. I watched her breasts. They moved slightly with the movements of her hand. Her nipples made my mouth water. It was silent in the bedroom aside from my breathing and after a while I moaned.

She giggled. I looked at her.

"It's okay," she said. "Let it come."

I nodded and she changed her technique. She inserted two fingers into my vagina, deeply to the knuckle, and continued tracing circles around my clit with the fingertip of her other hand. I groaned again.

"You're so beautiful," she said, watching me. "I love watching a woman come."

"Oh god," I said, feeling it build.

"Yes," she whispered. "Close your eyes. Focus on the orgasm. Just let it come."

I closed my eyes and did as she said. I could feel it stirring and building between my legs. My chest was rising and falling with each breath. I half expected her to do something different, but she didn't even change pace. She didn't pump her fingers or go faster with the circles. She just continued with exactly the same caress. Her fingers sat inside my throbbing vagina and my clit continued to tingle uncontrollably as she drew her circles around it.

Finally I came. My breaths had turned to moans and a strangled little cry escaped me. My back arched completely off the bed. It wasn't as massive or abrupt as the first one, but it was still something I wouldn't mind doing all day long. It washed over me from head to toe in a hot wave of lust and slowly I subsided on the sheet, sweaty and breathless.

When I opened my eyes, she was smiling at me and stroking my breasts. Petting them almost. There was a certain quirk to her smirk, but that was okay. This was a girl who was quite literally fucking the straight out of me; she was entitled to a little smugness.

"You okay?" she asked.

I nodded, swallowing, my mouth too dry to answer. She giggled and rose from the bed. She was still wearing nothing but panties, and the sight of her dressed like that caused another inexplicable spike of excitement.

"Wait there, I'll get you some water," she said, and then quickly scampered out the room.

I watched her ass dreamily until it was gone and then I sighed. Well. I guess I'm gay. Or maybe only half gay. After all, laying there and taking it was quite a different thing from actually doing it. I suppose that part was next. It was the least I could do, really. After two such lovely orgasms, the least I could do was…

What? Put my mouth on her pussy? Um…okay. I guess I could do that.

The thought made me slightly queasy, but I decided not to think about it. It was too late to back out now, not that I even wanted too. I couldn't expect myself to be completely comfortable the first time, but I'd be lying if I said part of me wasn't excited to try it. As much as the scraps of my heterosexuality balked at the notion of putting my tongue inside another woman, there was a bigger part of me, a stronger part of me, that wanted to put my tongue anywhere it might feel good for her. So even if the thought made my stomach queasy, it also made my pussy horny. And since I was naked right now, it was probably best to listen to my pussy.

I sat up on the edge of the bed and drew my legs together. I looked about for something to cover my nakedness with, but in the end, I just dragged a handful of bedsheet over my lap. I was contemplating covering my breasts as well when the pixie made her return. She had two small bottles of chilled spring water and she handed one to me.

"Thanks," I said, twisting off the top and taking a long gulp.

"Don't mention it," she said, and then she sat next to me. She was close enough that our knees touched and she placed a kiss on my bare shoulder.

I stiffened and took another sip, sitting there rigidly like a schoolgirl. It was unbelievable; two massive orgasms and I was still as horny as when I stepped out the shower. The girl was a witch.

"You're so beautiful," she said, dragging the hair away from my neck. My hair was dry by now and it was all tangled and clumpy. She kissed my throat and jawline. "You have such beautiful skin…"

My skin burned where her lips touched and I turned my face to hers. Our eyes caught and as I looked into those gorgeous honey brown pools, I felt something strange rise up from my stomach. A growling feeling, an urge, a hunger. My eyes flickered over her lips and back at her eyes.

"Is it your turn now?" I asked.

Her lips curved into a smile and she gave a tiny shrug. "It's up to you," she said. "If you're not comfortable, I could…"

She trailed off and straddled my lap quickly. She gave a quick thrust of her hips against my leg and then ground down on it, suggesting that she could make herself come like this, without my active participation. The grind had shoved aside the bedsheet that was covering my lap and I felt a flutter of panic at the wet drag of her panties over my thigh.

But panic or not, I didn't want her to do it like that. She had been far too patient with me already and I'd never forgive myself if I let her simply hump my leg like a puppy. So I put my hands on her tiny hips to still her. She looked at me questioningly.

"No," I said. "I want to."

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

I nodded, smiling. "Yeah."

She giggled and took another gulp of her water. Then she grabbed both bottles and set them on the sidetable, leaning with her naked torso and me unable to keep my eyes from her pretty chest.

She took my face in her hands and kissed me. Her mouth was cold from the water. She urged me backwards on the bed and together we shuffled backwards with our mouths locked. Our chests touched, her hard little nipples grazing my breasts, and suddenly I swung her around and set her against the pillow.

She giggled, laying on her back, and opened her legs for me to get between them. Not a shy girl, this one. I was kissing her throat and a strange delirium swept over me as I reached down between us and groped the damp patch in her panties. I could feel the contours of her cleft and the hard nub of her clit. My stomach clenched as it occurred to me that I had pussy-juice on my hand, but even the nausea felt good. I slipped my hand into her panties and my tongue into her mouth, giving in to the strangeness. She moaned and bucked her little hips. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" she asked breathlessly.

I nodded quickly. "Yes. Is it hard?"

She burst out laughing. "Hard?

I blushed; my hand was pressed against her crotch and maybe the word hard had different connotations in such situations. "Wrong word," I said. "Is it difficult to do?"

This was a pretty big anxiety. It was all well and good to eat another woman's pussy, but what if I fucked it up? I'd seen a video or two, of course, but I had no actual experience. I knew what I liked, but was that a reliable guide when it came to other women?

She giggled at my silliness. She was holding my hand between her legs and squirming her hips attractively. "Some chicks are trickier than others," she said, "but I'm pretty easy. Just copy what I did to you, or just do what feels natural. I'm pretty close already."

She punctuated the statement with a little extra squirm, and to my horror I felt my finger slip between her folds. A slick and slippery crevice. My fingers didn't go in deeply, but enough to make me question what the hell I was doing with my life. But her pretty face was right in front of me, and the sheer beauty of her blush was more than enough to wash away my anxieties; I leaned and covered her mouth with mine.

And so, we arrive at the moment of truth. The foreplay was done and it was time to bring my darling partner to a climax.

God help me.

She had told me to copy what she did to me, so that was what I did, only adding a little common sense. After all, she was extremely close already, so it didn't make sense to dwell over-long on her breasts. Not that I didn't enjoy them – I did, I really did. It was just a little odd, that's all. Her nipples were so huge, her skin so smooth. Her chest was almost completely flat with her laying on her back, but it was still so different from a guy. Maybe that was the weirdest thing. I couldn't even pretend she was a man to make myself more comfortable, because men didn't turn me on anymore. Yet I wasn't quite comfortable with the female body, either. I seemed to be trapped between orientations. It might've been wiser to wait until I was more sure about myself before taking a step like this, but I didn't predict any long-term psychological damage. I wasn't quite comfortable, sure, but even the disgust was a turn on – it made me feel like a freak.

And so, like a freak, I let my mouth descend lower on her body. I kissed her belly – nice abs. Chick works out. I kissed the elastic of her panties. A musky scent filled my head and I rose up quickly between her legs, looking down at the damp patch in her underwear. The movement made me dizzy.

I took the waistband in my hands and looked at her. Her face was flushed and her eyes lidded. She looked at my breasts and licked her lips. She was horny and I had to smirk. What a dyke.

"Ready?" I asked.

She nodded, grinning, and lifted her hips a little. My heart jumped into my throat and I began to tug down her panties. They came away sticky and finally her pussy was revealed. A feeling like vertigo swept over me as for the first time I beheld a horny pussy at close range. I didn't know what to think but my mouth watered.

"Oh god," I said.

She giggled, laying there naked with her legs open, watching my face. "Is it that impressive?"

I swallowed. She was waxed or shaved, like me, and she was all wet and swollen and waiting. I licked my lips. "It's beautiful," I said. It was also alien-like and disgusting, but that didn't seem flattering to say so.

"Aww," she said. "Now you're just trying to make me blush."

I laughed in a frazzled fashion and shook my head. I swept a hand through my hair and grinned at the situation I was in. "I can't believe I'm about to do this."

"Well, the sooner the better," she said. "I'm pretty fucking horny." And with that, she smirked and let one of her hands drift down between her thighs. I was just kneeling there like a dumb thing, so she took it upon herself to stroke her own pussy, her fingertips tracing patterns against her swollen lips. I stared, mesmerized.

"Oh god," I said. I suppose this was one of the biggest differences between men and women. A woman touching herself is hot. A man? Er, not so much.

She giggled and squirmed her hips a little. Her grin widened and she let one of her fingers inside herself, letting me watch. I could smell her arousal and the scent made me dizzy.

"Come on, baby," she said. "Don't make me do me all by myself."

Well, this is it. No backing out now. I never took any pride in being straight, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a little sad at how my hetero reputation would be forever sullied after tonight.

But a girl can't help the way she feels. A convenient mantra at times. Without it I doubt I'd ever have the courage to eat another woman's pussy. But that's exactly what I was going to do, and without further ado, I shuffled backwards on the bed, lay flat on my stomach, and lowered my mouth to her—

Pussy.

My stomach turned, but I ignored it. Her scent swirled in my head and made me dizzy all over again. It was much better than any kind of male scent, but it was still going to take some getting used to. My mouth was only inches away from her. My lips had gone dry. I licked them and leaned a little closer. I could hear her breathing, hard and deep, patient but very horny. I licked my lips again, my mouth watering. I couldn't decide if I was disgusted or excited. My lips were close now, so close. I had to do it, quickly, before she noticed I was hesitating. She'd been so great to me, so patient and gentle. I had to do this. I had to show her how much I liked her. I swallowed, licking my lips one more time. My eyes fell closed. All I could smell was her scent and there were no thoughts in my head at all. I leaned closer, the anticipation like acid in my stomach. Closer, knowing my lips were about to touch her. In a way, this was going to be my first real lesbian kiss. Kissing a mouth was like kissing a person, but this was kissing a woman. This was kissing what made a woman a woman – her womanhood. This was—

My lips brushed up against her pussy and a loud moan rose from her chest.

"Mmm," she moaned, squirming her hips into my mouth. "Fuck that's good."

I didn't reply. I was a little dazed. Her arousal was on my lips and I licked them quickly. I didn't know what it tasted like, but it wasn't offensive. It sang in my head like alcohol. My stomach gave a pang of hunger and I inhaled deeply. Her scent filled my head and my eyes went lidded. Her pussy was right there in front of me and I licked it. A quick lick, my heart spasming at my boldness. She shivered and gave another moan. I licked again. Her pussy was so smooth, so sticky. Her taste filled my mouth and I licked again, and again, and again. Small licks as if to taste her, lapping at her daintily like a cat at a bowl of milk.

Her breath shivered and both of her hands were threaded in my hair. She was caressing my scalp as if washing my hair with some phantom shampoo and she kept squirming her hips into my face.

"Ugh," she groaned. "Try firmer licks," she suggested. "Flatten your whole tongue against me. Lick long and hard."

"Like this?" I said, and made a try. I started at the base of her pussy and licked all the way up to her clit, pressing my tongue against her and pressing it hard.

"Mmm," she moaned loudly. "Yes. Just like that. That's _perfect_. Oh fuck."

She seemed to like it, so I kept going. Maybe that was strangest of all – her moans. Little high-pitched girlish breaths of pleasure that made me feel like I was trapped in a porno. I was tempted to scan the room for a hidden camera, but I didn't think she was that kind of girl.

So I kept licking. It didn't take me long to develop a taste for her essence. I licked every inch of her contours, letting my tongue slip in and out of her folds. The queasiness never left the pit of my stomach, but that was probably natural for a girl's first time. It was a bit slimy, after all. Like a warm oyster. But the important thing was that she liked it. Plus, it was progress on my path of self-realization. One way or another I was going to have to figure out if I was gay or straight, and right now the dial seemed to be taking a violent swing toward lesbian. Because here I was eating another woman's pussy and by god if I didn't kind of almost really like it.

"Yes," she groaned, squirming, the orgasm building in her voice. "Keep doing that. Put two fingers inside me."

I felt a stab of excitement, and I didn't bother replying. I took two fingers and wriggled them past her folds and into her vagina. It was a tight little space and I was stunned at the warmth. It was like sticking your fingers into a freshly baked apricot pie.

She giggled as they went in, a delightfully slutty sound, and I felt her clench down on them. "Oh god," she said, stealing my line. "Oh god."

I decided it was time, so I found her clit and fastened my lips to it. I suckled at it and began pumping my fingers gently. I'd seen this in a video, and I was pretty confident the actresses weren't faking – for twenty bucks per month they better not be.

Regardless, the technique seemed to work on the pixie. I kept sucking at her clit and pumping my fingers. Her vagina clenched in rhythm and soon she was moaning in rhythm as well. I could hear the orgasm building in her breathlessness and it was really a beautiful thing to hear. I kept going and finally she gave a little cry. Her walls clenched down hard on my fingers, surprisingly hard—shockingly hard—and her back arched up from the bed.

She laughed as the climax washed over her. It was a pretty sound. I'd never heard a girl laugh away an orgasm, but it seemed innocent and joyful, and it made me confident that I'd picked a nice partner to share this with. And so, with a light heart and very little queasiness, I eased her down by kissing her clit and administering a few more licks before finally withdrawing my fingers. I went to rise from between her legs, but I was seized with a sudden impulse, and I quickly gave her cute little pussy a nice big tongue kiss. It made her laugh again.

"That was amazing," she said, smiling at me as I rose up and moved to her side. She drew her legs together and curled up cutely. "You're a natural at that."

I felt a flush of pride. I wasn't ready to admit I was a lesbian, but it was nice to know I had the skills to pull it off. "Thanks."

"Mmm," she moaned, staring at me dreamily, almost lovingly. Her eyes roamed my naked body, lingering on my breasts, and her smile tilted up into a smirk. "Did you get horny again?" she asked.

I saw what she was getting at and I felt a quick stab of excitement. Truth is, I did feel a dull throbbing between my legs, but she had already done me so thoroughly. How could I, in good consciousness, ask for a third one?

"A little," I admitted.

"Good," she grinned, and rolled over languidly. Her breasts came up and she eyed me lustily. "Come here, sit on my face quickly."

I blinked. "Huh?"

She giggled and grabbed my naked hips, pulling me toward her. "Come here," she insisted. "Quickly."

It felt slightly disrespectful to sit on a girl's face, but I didn't have the power to resist. She dragged me on top of her with surprising strength in her little arms and I quickly straddled her face. Instantly she lifted her mouth into the fork of my crotch and I felt her tongue wriggle inside me. It took me by surprise and made me squirm.

"Oh god," I said, gripping her hair and thrusting against her face gently. "Oh god."

She moaned loudly into my pussy, hooking her arms around my legs. The weirdest thing was that she actually seemed to love doing it. Her tongue was so deep inside me I could almost feel it in my heart. I groaned and already I could feel a third orgasm building. I had never come this fast or this much in my life. Either this chick had a magic touch, or I was simply crazy about her. Maybe it was both. But mostly I think I was totally fucking crazy about her.

A fresh sheen of sweat had broken out over my body and when I came I came with my face tilted to the ceiling. Eyes closed. Her tongue inside me. I could feel my dark hair all tangled and frazzled about my shoulders and I groaned loudly, a troubled look passing over my face, as if it was simply too much pleasure to handle. The climax came and ebbed away and for moment I simply sat there on her face, panting. She kept licking at my soft and sensitive pussy and finally I listed sideways and collapsed onto the bed beside her.

I was exhausted. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I felt the mattress tilt and then I felt her hand on my hip, stroking me. I knew she was looking at me, but that only made me feel good. Her hand cupped one of my breasts and stroked it and nothing had ever made me feel more beautiful in my life than how she touched me in those moments.

Finally she grabbed up the sheets and cuddled up beside me. She arranged our heads under the same pillow and when I opened my eyes she was there, smiling. The sheet was pulled up to our shoulders, but we were still naked underneath. She was stroking my body underneath the sheet and she cupped my butt. I let her pull me on top of her and I lay with my head on her small shoulder while she caressed my ass briefly. Amazingly, the caress caused yet another flicker of excitement between my legs.

"Mmm," she moaned softly, placing a kiss on the top of my head. "You are so beautiful. I could eat your pussy all night. Seriously. It's delicious."

She said it in a gentle whisper with a gentle giggle and I gave a sleepy smile into her shoulder. "Thanks."

"Did you like it?" she asked.

I chuckled. "I loved it," I said, and I really did. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. As perfect as any first time could possibly be. Gay or not, I was going to remember it for the rest of my life. And her. I would always remember her. The pixie. Alice.

"Good," she said, and placed another kiss on my hair. Her hand had moved to my hip and she was stroking me idly. I'm glad you liked it."

We fell silent and she continued to stroke me. Soon we would have to get up. I was thirsty and we'd have to make the bed. But I wished we could stay like this forever. It was so perfect, to snuggle up beside her like this. She was so warm, so soft, so smooth. So perfect.

God, I was lucky. How many people ever meet a person as perfect as this one right here? It sucks that she's a girl, but maybe that only makes her even more perfect. I couldn't imagine feeling this way about a man. No matter how perfect. Maybe I really am gay. I was never crazy about men. And it wasn't that I never met the right one. I've known plenty of nice guys. Besides, even the idea of a man seemed pretty stupid. Women make more sense. Even if it wasn't the pixie. Chicks are just better. Cuter. Nicer.

But the pixie was the best. Best of all women. I had only known her a week, but that was long enough. She was perfect. Cute, sexy, beautiful. And such a lovely ass. Really, it was beautiful. I hadn't noticed how beautiful it was till tonight. But it was, it was amazing. But she wasn't just beautiful. She was funny and witty. And friendly. And understanding and patient. And mature and respectful. And such a good cook. She even had a great job. She was perfect, plain and simple. A perfect little pixie. Even her name was beautiful. Alice. So perfect. Everything about her. Perfect, perfect, perfect. She really was. Everything—so perfect. Oh god, I love her. She's just so—

Wait.

I love her?

The thought made my eyes open. I was looking at her chest. My head was just under her chin and her fingers were still tracing patterns in my hip. A storm of butterflies fluttered up in my stomach and I realized it was true:

I love her.

I didn't know it was possible to fall in love so quick, but I think it had happened. I could feel it in my bones. Maybe I was just confused or freshly-fucked, but it really did feel like I was totally in love.

"Alice?" I whispered, and to my horror I realized I was about to tell her.

"Mm?" she murmured.

But thankfully I came to my senses. I would've come off as a total psycho if I told her I loved her so early, and really, it was creepy enough to even think it. So I shook my head and whispered, "Nothing…"

She shifted slightly. She was looking down at the top of my head. Her hand had paused in its caress, but it was still settled at my hip. "Everything okay?" she asked.

I nodded and snuggled closer, letting my eyes fall shut. "Yes," I said, with her smooth, soft, warm, and beautiful weight flush against my body. "It's perfect."

—

Chapter 19:

—

I woke up with a sense of disorientation and a peculiar taste in my mouth. I sat up and blinked and almost fell back again under the wave of dizziness that washed over me.

I was waking up in another chick's bed.

And it wasn't no slumber party.

For a second I sat there, not knowing what to do with myself. I raked a hand through my tangled hair, sheets drawn up over my breasts. I was naked and there was a strange feeling between my legs. Bright sunlight spilled through the window over the bed, bathing me and my tawdry tableau. I half wondered if last night had been a dream, but it didn't seem possible. The room had been tidied and it really wasn't my room. It was also difficult to ignore the taste in my mouth. I licked my lips and cringed. I wondered if I should get myself checked out by a doctor, but I didn't think pussy was poisonous or otherwise dangerous to consume.

After a few minutes I realized the shower was on, and shortly after I noticed, it turned off. The shower was on, then it turned off. That meant the pixie had been in the shower…and now she was getting out.

Oh god.

What the hell was I supposed to do? I was still sitting in the bed with my mouth open like a stunned bimbo, covering myself with my sheet. I had left my clothes in the bathroom last night, so it wasn't like I could quickly get changed. All I could do was sit there in the bed and panic as—

The door swung open. It was an adjoining bathroom. The pixie emerged in a tiny puff of steam and saw me. She had been prepared to tiptoe to her dresser to avoid waking me, but she stopped mid-step when she saw I was awake. She froze like a big-eyed doe. My heart slammed. She was wearing just a towel, and dammit if I didn't get just a little horny. She hadn't wrapped it very tight and she was holding it up with one hand. It had started to slip and she did a quick squirm to capture her modesty. The movement broke the silence and she giggled.

"Oh," she said, as if just noticing me. She waved cutely with her free hand. "Hi."

My heart was pounding in my chest. I was disappointed the towel hadn't slipped further but aware at the same time that it was probably for the best. "Hi."

She nodded and we enjoyed a moment of awkward silence. Then something occurred to her and she cocked a thumb over her shoulder. "Bathroom's free, if you wanna…"

She trailed off. I did have to pee if that was what she was getting at, so I nodded. A shower would be nice too. I could feel the lesbianism caked to my body like grime. I'd feel better once I was clean.

I got out of the bed, careful to conceal myself with the sheet, and turned on the spot, looking for my clothes. Then I remembered I'd left them in the bathroom. The pixie seemed to realize what I was looking for, and she picked up a small bundle off the dresser. It my was dress, my red and expensive dress, all neatly folded with my underwear on top.

My thong.

I cringed as I took the bundle from her, tucking the sheet under my arm to keep covered. I stole a glance at her expression and she smirked a little at the thong and at me. But thankfully she was too much of a lady to make any comment. My heart did a little flip and all I could do was thank god she had never seen me wearing it.

She smiled and stepped back, adjusting her towel to cover her chest. "There's some new toothbrushes in the cabinet," she said, "or you can just use mine. I don't mind."

"Thanks," I muttered, blushing, and quickly ducked into the bathroom.

My purse and cellphone were also on top of the bundle and the first thing I did was check my messages. There was about a million of them from Jess. Basically, she wanted to know how it had gone, why I wasn't home yet, and oh my god did I sleep with her. I deleted them all with a sinking feeling and without replying. I wouldn't be able to keep it secret for long, but my first lesbian experience wasn't something I was eager to text about with smileys and virtual giggling. Not that I was ashamed or anything.

I brushed my teeth with my finger, not willing to open a new brush or use hers. I'm sure she was only being polite, anyway; no one is that eager to share their oral hygiene equipment. I took a shower and put my dress back on, adding to my sense of shame. An evening dress in broad daylight. Well. At least I didn't have to endure the indignity of tangled hair and smeared mascara. All I had to do was drive home and ride an elevator in a red dress. It wasn't as bad as that time in college when I had to walk home the morning after Halloween in a Supergirl costume. Supergirl had gotten drunk that night and met a boy who appeared to have a chunk of kryptonite in his pants. I recalled the memory with a wistful sigh; I was really quite straight at one point.

By the time I was done in the bathroom, I could feel the cold well of dread in the pit of my stomach. The pixie was out there. Somewhere in the apartment. Lurking. This woman I'd had sex with. What was I supposed to say to her? It had been an awesome once in a lifetime experience, but I wouldn't even tell a guy that. One should never admit exactly how much sexual power a date has over them.

I decided politeness was the best policy, and with only a little reluctance, I wandered my way through the apartment and into the kitchen where I found her dressed in shorts and a sleeptank she'd thrown on. She was standing at the coffee machine with her back to me, tapping her foot. The shorts had Hello Kitty on them and I thought, _hello indeed_. I'd never been an ass-girl before, but I'd never been gay, either.

I cleared my throat to get her attention. She spun around and smiled.

"Oh, hey," she said. "Are you hungry? I was just about to make something."

She gestured vaguely at the fridge, but I shook my head. My appetite was nil and all I felt was a gnawing anxiety in my stomach that implied I would be far more comfortable if I could get back to my own apartment and put some decent clothes on. A woman of quality does not eat breakfast in a thong.

"That's okay, I better get home," I said, and then added, "Thanks for an amazing night last night."

I was unsure if that was the right thing to say and a hot flush crawled over me. I pretended to myself that I was referring to the date, not the sex, but I don't think she did the same. She giggled and dipped a playful curtsy.

"My pleasure," she said.

I nodded awkwardly. I suppose that's when I should've just turned around and left, but it didn't seem like an adequate cue. It felt like something else was supposed to be said, so I hesitated. I adjusted my purse. The coffee machine gurgled. She had been smiling at me, as if she still thought I was beautiful even in the cold light of morning, and the coffee machine snapped her out of it. She spun around, switched it off, and spun back.

"Hey, um," she began. "It's Sunday today, right? Well, I'm not working and I've pretty much got the whole day to myself. Wanna hang out a little? Maybe get lunch?"

Butterflies fluttered up, and I hesitated with my mouth open. I didn't know how to react. My body was tingling with excitement at the idea of spending time with her, but lunch in public seemed a bit fast. It wouldn't be the first time I'd had lunch with another woman, but what if people could tell we were gay? It would be mortifying.

"Uh, sure," I said, mostly because it would've been totally barbaric to refuse. "I have to go home and change first, but I'd love to."

"Great," she giggled, and actually swayed on the spot like a schoolgirl. "I'll call you, we'll meet somewhere?"

The cute display made me blush and melted the rest of my resistance. Who cares if you're a lesbian if you're dating something as adorable as that?

"Sure," I said, nodding. "I just need to change first."

I was repeating myself, but at least I wasn't stuttering. She nodded and looked about to cover her shyness and quickly gestured at the fridge again.

"You sure you don't want anything to eat quickly?" she said. Then she giggled and put a hand on her tummy. "I'm starving! You really wore me out last night."

I smiled aside. I could've mentioned that most of her efforts last night were her own initiative, but I didn't want to seem smug. In any case, I still wasn't hungry and I really had to change. "That's okay," I said. "I don't really eat in the mornings."

She looked a little disappointed. "You sure?" she persisted, as if she really didn't want me to go so soon. "Not even a grapefruit? It's the most important meal of the day."

I had a feeling she used the cliché deliberately, so I replied in kind. "I hate it when people try to force me to eat."

"Yeah, me too," she giggled. "Those people suck."

I chuckled once, just so things didn't get awkward. But it didn't really work. We fell silent and I was still lacking my exit cue. She shuffled on the spot in her socks, equally lost. I got the feeling she wanted to kiss me, and I wondered if that was normal. I searched my memory for mornings after I'd slept with guys I barely knew, but that wasn't a reliable source; I never liked any of them and I was generally out the door before they even woke up.

In any case, it didn't seem like any adequate exit cue was on its way, so I took a step backward and smiled politely. "Well, I better go," I hinted, none too subtly.

"Okay," she said. "I'll call in about an hour?"

I nodded, and she seem to make some decision; she came around the counter and kissed me. Even after last night it took me by surprise. Her hand was at my waist and she made a little moan of pleasure as she pressed her lips to mine. A wave of heat washed over me and when she rocked back on her heels I couldn't help smiling.

She giggled and lowered her eyes. She noticed a wrinkle in my dress and smoothed it quickly, my skinned tingling under her hand.

"Listen," she said, lifting her eyes to mine. She was shy and there was a blush on her cheeks. "Last night was awesome. Really, it was…" she trailed off, apparently unable to find the words for it. She sighed, smiled, and gave a little shrug. "Well, I just hope it was good for you, too."

Butterflies flared in my stomach. The word good was something of an understatement, but I nodded. "It was great," I said. I could've elaborated on how amazing it was, but I was a prude even before I started sleeping with girls.

She nodded and searched my face, not quite convinced. I could see the anxiety in her big brown eyes, the suspicion that this wasn't going to last, that days from now I would decide it wasn't my kind of thing and maybe we should just be friends. She was still standing really close, and the only way I could think of to reassure her was a kiss. So I bent slightly and touched my lips to hers, hoping this would be enough to convince her that I liked her, had no regrets, and definitely wanted to see her again. Which was all true. It was difficult for me to trust feelings so strange and so intense, but deep in my heart I knew something special was happening here.

I broke the kiss and she gave me a smile and a soft chuckle. I couldn't tell if I'd made her feel better, but it was the best I could do. In any case, I was still wearing a thong under my dress and I really had to go home and change. So I grabbed up my purse from the counter.

"Call me, okay?" I said, backing away and checking in my purse for my car keys. "We'll go anywhere you want for lunch. I'm not fussy."

She smiled and leaned on the counter, watching me. There was something wistful in her eyes and my heart warmed to realize that she really did like me.

"Okay," she said, her voice almost musical. "See you soon. Drive safe."

I was at the front door. I opened it, smiled at her for a moment, and ducked out.

—

Chapter 20:

—

The drive home wasn't so bad, but it made me consider tinted windows. When I finally got back to my apartment I found myself creeping down the corridor like a ninja in a rumpled red dress. I was carrying my shoes under my arm and glancing at Jess's door anxiously. I didn't know if she was home. With any luck she'd be shacked up with Mike somewhere, but I thought I should be as quiet as possible, just in case. The girl tends to take an uncomfortable interest in my love life lately.

I reached my door. I inserted the key, quietly, and glanced over my shoulder. So far so good. I turned the key. It made a soft clicking sound and the door opened a crack. I paused, waiting, and let out the breath I was holding. I went to enter my apartment and suddenly a door swung open behind me.

I spun around.

It was Jess. She took one look at me in my dress with my heels in my hands and her mouth dropped open.

"I knew it!" she cried.

"Ugh," I groaned, and went into my apartment.

I didn't even try to shut her out. She followed me in and she was staring at me in wide-eyed excitement. You could tell she was jumping to conclusions.

"So what happened?" she asked, instantly badgering me. "I've been texting you all morning!"

"Nothing happened," I muttered, moving past her into my bedroom. "We had dinner, we watched a movie."

"And then you didn't come home all night and here you are in the same clothes you left the house in," she added.

I ignored her. She had followed me all the way into my bedroom and I shot her a glare over my shoulder as I got some clothes out of my dresser. "Do you mind Jess?" I said pointedly. "I have to change."

"Right now? Why?"

"I'm meeting Alice."

"Really?!" she squealed.

"Jess," I said. "Get out."

"Oh, just get changed," she said, waving away my modesty. "I don't know what you're so nervous about. There's only one lesbian in this room and it aint me."

I took a deep breath. Part of me wanted to slap her and eject her out the window, but another part of me wanted to be a mature adult and just get changed without a fuss. There was also a third part of me that had unfortunately forgotten I was wearing a thong, so I went ahead and pulled off my dress.

Jess raised her eyebrows at my underwear and gave a wolf whistle. "Nice thong," she said. "Maybe I was wrong about only one lesbian in the room. There might be a bi-chick, too."

Very flattering, but highly embarrassing as well. Distressingly, it even excited me a little. But I ignored that and turned my back, dropping the thong and stepping into a proper pair of panties before putting on some jeans. Jess kept talking.

"So it went really well, huh?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I think so."

"And you slept with her?" she went on.

There was no point denying it, but that's what people in denial do. "That's private."

She laughed and grinned. "Oh my god, you totally slept with her," she said. "What was it like? Did you like it? I bet you liked it. You are so gay!"

I rolled my eyes. I wished I could be as jovial and carefree about it as Jess was, but it seemed slightly more serious when it was happening to you. I was still reluctant to commit to any preference since they seemed to be swinging wildly lately, and in any case, I wasn't inclined to entertain neighbors with sex stories, BFF or not. So I focused on buttoning up my jeans and didn't look at her.

"It was fine," I said, shrugging an agitated shoulder.

She seemed disappointed. "Just fine?"

My heart fluttered and I huffed out a breath. 'Fine' was a blatant lie, and I felt bad for saying it. I would've preferred the experience to remain private, but I guess Jess and I were intimate enough for a slight elaboration.

"It was good, okay?" I said, and this caused her to squeal out loud.

"I knew it!" she giggled. "Better than a guy?"

I frowned. She had never been excited like this when I dated guys, and I wondered where this sudden interest in my sex life was coming from. Could there be some subconscious repression finding vicarious outlet in my own Sapphic exploits? Who knows. Either way, I didn't want to discuss it, and like a true fledgling lesbian, I retreated immediately into cliché.

"It's not like that, Jess," I said. "It was good because I like her. Not because she's a girl. That's not important to me. Gender doesn't matter."

I felt like one of the characters in the movie I'd seen last night. Of course, none of it was really true. A person's sex is their primary characteristic, how could it be irrelevant? Besides, with a body like hers, I could've totally hated her and still had the time of my life. But it might've seemed a little ignoble to say so, so I didn't.

In any case, my politically correct posturing didn't seem to have much effect. I hadn't managed to muster the same conviction as the actress I'd seen last night, and Jess seemed to see through the lie. She grinned and put her hands on her hips mockingly.

"Yeah, sure," she said. "You liked that Edward-dude and how far did that get you?"

My stomach turned a little at the reminder. Poor guy. I really did like him, too. Just not physically. Shame we couldn't be friends.

Jess was still looking at me with a cocky expression on her blonde rat-like face. I had a bra on and I shot her a glare as I fished in a dresser drawer for a top. "Would you at least turn around?" I spat, mostly because I was annoyed, albeit mostly covered.

She only smirked more. "You got nothing I haven't seen before," she said, and directed one last glance at my breasts before they disappeared under my top. "Although yours are pretty good."

"Ugh," I groaned.

Jess had evidently had enough fun embarrassing me, because she changed the subject back to the pixie. "So you gonna meet for lunch?" she asked.

"Yeah, she's gonna call," I said. "How'd it go with you and Mike last night?"

I only asked to be polite. I didn't actually care. I was expecting her to launch into some over-excited retelling of whatever magnificent date they had last night, but surprisingly she only shrugged sullenly.

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "He got drunk and he was a bit of an ass. I don't know if I want to see him anymore."

It was hard to imagine Mike only being a _bit_ of an ass. Even more hard to imagine was that Jess could cool on him so quickly. Last I knew she was madly in love with him. And now she wasn't sure if she wanted to see him anymore? I raised an eyebrow.

"Just like that?"

She gave another sullen shrug. She was looking out the window. I was fully clothed by now and I was brushing my hair, flicking at my dark and unruly locks with just a bit of vigor. I frowned at her anxiously and I thought something serious might have happened.

"Wanna talk about it?" I asked.

"Nah," she said, shaking her head. Then she smiled and deflected the topic. "You just focus on Alice. You've got a keeper there, trust me. Hold onto that chick, Bella. Seriously. She needs a girl like you."

Her tone had gone a little serious and I felt a slow stirring of butterflies in my stomach. I kept brushing but more slowly. "Like me?"

Jess nodded. She had her hands in her back pockets and she was smiling. "Yeah, you know," she said. "Someone smart. Mature. Someone who can appreciate how perfect she is. She's dated so many losers – it's not even funny. She needs someone who isn't a total tramp, that's all."

Jess had been on the verge of a series of very touching compliments, but she fucked it up right at the end. It was nice to know my virtues lie in the fact that I'm not a total tramp. Still, it was nice effort so I gave her a look that was only slightly skeptical.

"Thanks, Jess," I said.

Jess was unaware she'd kind of insulted me. "Just treat her properly, alright?" she went on, almost imploringly. Then she scoffed at something, shook her head, and added: "And don't, like, try to take naked pictures of her without deleting the naked pictures of your ex first."

I had a feeling she had strayed onto a separate topic. Not only did I not have an ex, but I generally wasn't known for keeping naked pictures of anyone. Well, until recently. After I realized lesbians were kind of hot an erotic image or two might've crept onto my hard drive. But that was secret and I was positive it had nothing to do with what Jess was talking about. And since she had just got done telling me how she didn't want to see Mike anymore, I had a feeling she was hinting rather blatantly at her own relationship issues.

"Is that what Mike did?" I asked.

She looked sheepish. "Kind of."

I felt a surge of anger. I never liked that asshole and I liked him even less knowing that he had almost taken a naked picture of Jess. She was practically my little sister, for god's sake.

"That fucking bastard," I said.

Jess went anxious. "Well, I don't know," she said. "I mean, maybe he forgot to delete them? He probably didn't mean to keep them."

I looked at her. "He kept naked pictures of his ex and you're defending him?"

"Well, no," she said. "I'm just saying…"

I shook my head, cutting her off. "Listen, Jess," I said. "You deserve better than that creep. I never wanted to say anything bad about him because you liked him so much, but seriously: he's a fucking loser."

This perked her up. Two weeks ago she would've flown into a rage, but right now she seemed almost eager to believe it. "You think?"

"Yes," I said. "Now dump his skinny ass and find someone better. Alright?"

I had turned to my makeup case and I was leaning to the tiny mirror in the lid.

She nodded anxiously and took a deep breath. "Yeah, maybe I will," she said. Then a smile quirked her mouth. "Shame you hooked up with Alice. I would've gone lezzy for her in a second."

I smiled and capped the lipstick. "Wouldn't we all," I said, flipping closed the case and turning to Jess. "Now, if you'll excuse me," I said, motioning toward the door. "I'm waiting on a call."

—

Chapter 21:

—

Alice called soon after Jess left, and we agreed to meet at Kerry Park before going to lunch somewhere.

Nervousness had began to set in as soon as I hung up the phone, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I took a few moments to re-gear my outfit before leaving. I changed my boots twice, unsure how a high a heel the occasion warranted, and I brushed my hair again before tying it into a high ponytail. But then I pulled the ponytail out and fluffed my hair with my fingers, muttering to myself that I looked so much cuter with it down.

Finally I threw on a heavy winter coat and took a deep breath. My heart was beating harder than normal and I had to marvel at how dating a girl had caused me to regress into an insecure teenager. I suppose it made sense; my emotional development concerning other women was still in its early stages. Still, you'd think I'd have a head start from all the guys I'd dated.

Nevertheless I was in an anxious state when I finally pulled up at Kerry Park. It was cited on the south slope of Queen Anne Hill, and it had an amazing view of downtown Seattle and Elliot Bay. It was a cold morning, but very clear, and I could see all the way to the Space Needle and the skyline beyond.

But none of that was as pretty as the pixie.

She was waiting for me by the plaque and I almost died at how cute she was. And in winter clothes, too. She was wearing black boots and black pants. The pants were tight and warm-looking. Her coat was short and double-breasted, with two columns of big black buttons. The buttons were done up and atop her head sat a cute black beret. The coat had a vaguely militaristic feel to it with its slim design and plain black epaulets, and combined with the beret, she looked like some pretty soldier ready to march the border into Canada.

She smiled when she saw me and I gulped down my nervousness. There was a pompom on her beret and it jiggled as she took a hand out her pocket to wave. Her breath plumed softly in the morning cold, but I seemed to warm noticeably as I approached her.

"Hi!" she chirped. "Ever been to Kerry Park?"

I looked around, as if I only just noticed where we were. "Actually, yeah," I said. "My best friend got married here."

"Aww, that's so romantic!" she gushed. "I always wanted to get married here."

"Is that even legal?" I asked, and quickly cringed; bit of a tactless question, all things considered.

The topic of weddings had made her radiant for a moment, but my stupidity dimmed her slightly. She shrugged. "Actually, same-sex marriage was legalized last year in Washington state," she said. Then she giggled and bumped me with her hip playfully. "Just in time for me and you, huh?"

I chuckled and blushed, grateful she overlooked my blunder. At least I thought she did, until she added:

"And FYI?" she said, taking a haughty tone. "If you ever plan on being gay at all, you might wanna keep track of those things. Just a thought."

She said it very playfully, but it felt like a subtle counter-attack. I knew she was kind of paranoid about straight-chicks, but I was beginning to think there might be some hidden resentment there, too. Hard to blame her; everything would be so much simpler if I was just gay.

In any case, I didn't want to get in a fight on our second date, so I simply played along, chuckling demurely and nodding in agreement. It wasn't like me to back down so spinelessly, but this was all foreign territory to me, and until I knew exactly what I was talking about, it was probably best to just keep my mouth shut.

Besides, she's cute – who could argue with such cuteness?

We had already started down the path that wove through the park and soon the subject was changed to less touchy topics. We chatted aimlessly, making small talk about the weather, the probability of snow. The trail wound around a huge steel sculpture, a fifteen foot stack of cubes. There was a photographer or two standing by to get a picture of the sculpture with Mount Rainer in the misty background, but I really had no idea what the big deal was. A hunk of metal and a mountain seemed to pale in comparison in magnificence to the pixie on my right.

We walked on, and by and by we began talking about the date last night. She went into detail about the recipe, how she learnt it from a book and made a few personal alterations. I actually had an interest in cooking, so it wasn't only politeness that prompted me to prod about these alterations. We had an interesting discussion on whether or not it was worth it to actually use a mortar and pestle to crush lemongrass and after nodding and agreeing with each other, we fell into a mildly awkward silence.

We'd talked about everything that happened last night except the sex, and considering how great it was and how important my enjoyment of it was to the continuation of the relationship, it seemed like a noticeable omission. She obviously didn't want to pressure me into talking about it, and as for me, I simply didn't know what to say. I didn't even know if I wanted to talk about it. To be honest, it still seemed a little unreal to me, as if it was just a dream or something I'd fantasized about. But it had happened, and you know what? I was kind of cool with that. So what if I licked another woman like an ice-cream? It's not as bad as being a pedophile.

The silence had dragged for almost a full minute when she giggled. Just out of the blue. The musical sound made my chest tingle and I glanced at her with a smile.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she said, with a little blush.

She kicked the ground shyly and I smiled wider.

"No, what?" I insisted.

She glanced at me and away again, grinning. "It's nothing, I just keep thinking about last night."

My heart started to beat a little faster and I had a feeling we were about to talk about 'it.'

She giggled again. "I keep remembering how you kept saying 'oh god, oh god,'" she went on. "I just can't get it out of my head. You were really weirded out last night, weren't you?"

Now it was my turn to blush. "A little," I admitted. "But that's probably natural, right?"

She shrugged. "For a girl like you, sure," she said. "Anything new's gotta be pretty weird. I mean, it's not something you've been wondering about for years and years, right?

"No," I said, snorting a chuckle. I might've had a girl-crush here and there but nothing that would qualify as repression. "Just a couple of weeks."

"Well, see?" she said. "I mean, it wasn't like that for me. I grew up knowing I was different. I didn't have the vocabulary to explain it when I was a kid, but I knew. And when I actually did it, it wasn't weird at all. It was just natural."

I nodded, thinking how lucky she was. Sex had never felt particularly natural to me, not even when I was straight. I always figured I was just a cold kind of girl, but maybe the problem wasn't me – maybe it was just guys.

Because there had been nothing cold about me last night. It couldn't be coincidence that my first time with a girl had almost melted my face off. It could be argued that maybe it had only been so intense because I really liked her, but that was silly. It was her body I liked, her ass, her boobs, her smooth beautiful legs. Her lilting feminine moans. Weirdness aside, last night was simply incredible. Just thinking about it caused my face to heat.

We had fallen silent again, but since the subject was out there, I decided she deserved to know what a sex-goddess she was. Credit where credit is due, after all, and maybe it would do something to reassure her that this wasn't some kind of experiment for me. We were walking along, side by side with our hands in the pockets of our coats, and I gave a chuckle to get her attention.

"Hey," I said. "Can I tell you a secret?"

She was already smiling. "Sure."

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I blushed. "Last night was the best sex I ever had," I told her, and blushed even more. I was struggling for casualness, so chuckled and added, "I just thought you should know. You're a beast."

She giggled, her whole face radiant under her pretty black beret. She gave a shrug and tried not to grin. "Well," she said, modestly. "I try."

I chuckled to myself. I wanted to elaborate a little more for her on how much I liked it, but I was too embarrassed. We were going along a low stonewall and there was a view of cottages in the little valley below. I glanced at the view to cover my shyness and she giggled, evidently emboldened by my confession.

"So did I managed to screw the straight out of you?" she asked. "Or did I miss a spot?"

I wasn't sure if she was joking or serious, so I just chuckled. "What do you mean?"

She giggled and bumped my shoulder playfully. "Did last night change anything for you?" she rephrased. "Or are you still…?"

She let it trail off, and I started to panic a little. I wasn't ready to define myself just yet, but I didn't want her to worry about my feelings, either.

"Oh," I said. "Um, I don't know. It's complicated. I don't want to speak too soon, you know?" I heard what I was saying and how indecisive I sounded and I chuckled at myself. "I think I'm starting to understand why people hate labels so much," I said. "They do seem a little confining."

I expected her to agree with the anti-labels stance, but she actually seemed a little prickled. "There's a difference between confining and clarifying," she said. But then she shook it off and shrugged. "But I was just asking, I don't want to pressure you."

"No, no, I understand," I said, and I really did. I understood that she was cute and I wanted to make her happy. So I went on, struggling for both honesty and reassurance. "It's just kind of complicated, that's all. All I can really say is that I like you. And the fact that you're a girl…I really like that, too."

It was surprisingly exciting to admit that, even though there were people around and I had to admit it quietly. She looked at me for a moment and smiled.

"Well, don't worry about it," she said, brushing the topic away. "In the end, only time will tell. I know that better than most people, trust me. Come on, let's sit down for a little bit."

We were coming around a bend that overlooked Elliott bay. Early morning sunlight shimmering off the water. A few boats out there. The pixie took a seat on the low stonewall with her back to the bay and I sat down beside her. We both had our hands in our coats and she was all huddled up under her beret.

"Kind of cold, isn't it?" she said.

I nodded. "Winter soon."

"Yeah," she agreed.

Great. Talking about sex had discomforted us all the way back to small talk. Maybe it really was too soon to have sex.

I sighed and looked around. There was a woman on the grass, sitting on a spread blanket with a novel in her lap. Two children were running around her and squealing. Probably her own. A little further along the wall there were two women with cellphones, taking pictures of the ferries that were coasting through the bay. They were both blonde and they both had their hair tied up in exactly the same bun. I took a minute to wonder if I found them cute and I guess I did.

I glanced at the pixie. Alice. She was pale in the cold aside from the color in her cheeks and her lips were slightly blue. I had an aching desire to kiss them, but it didn't seem like the right time. Or place. There were children present, after all.

She blew into her cupped hands and caught me looking at her. She smiled and rubbed her hands together. "Hey, listen," she said. "I know it's only been one date, but I really like you. And I really want this to work out. I know a person can't change who they are, but…"

She trailed off. Then she sighed and smiled for the casualness.

"But there's a pretty good chance, right?" she said. "That you're gay, not just confused?"

Butterflies stirred in my stomach. I looked at her face and I honestly found it difficult to imagine that I would ever regress to the point where I didn't find it attractive. So I nodded, thoughtfully but with assurance. "I think it's pretty much certain," I said. "I just need a little time, that's all."

She nodded slowly, searching my eyes. She smiled. "Good," she said. "That's good." Then she went to kiss me.

Panic.

It probably wasn't the best way to reassure her of my willingness to accept a serious same-sex relationship, but I turned my face aside. It was the wrong thing to do, and totally juvenile, and I felt really bad for doing it – but we were in public, for god's sake! What's next, a blog with naked pictures? A YouTube channel? Where does the exhibition end?

It was completely irrational of me, but kissing a woman in public seemed just a tad indecent. I would've been more comfortable doing a pole dance on the lamppost. So I turned my cheek and while this did manage to evade lip contact, it still resulted in the intimate application of her mouth on my face, making it totally obvious to any observer that I wasn't straight and normal. One of the nearby blondes noticed, and I panicked, somehow fearing that being caught would result in any number of devastating and unforeseen circumstances. But she didn't gasp and grab a pitch fork. She simply gave me an odd look and turned back to the bay and her conversation with her friend.

Well. Maybe I overreacted.

The pixie's lips were gone. My cheek was tingling and there was a small wet patch that I could feel in the cold wind. I resisted the urge to wipe it away. It wouldn't cause an actual stain, and I'm sure the pixie was hurt enough already.

I glanced at her, but at first she seemed only confused. Then she looked around and realized what the problem was. I suppose kissing girls was so natural to her that she doesn't make it a habit to check if she's in public or not. A small look of hurt passed over her face, and I quickly said:

"Sorry."

I didn't know what else to say, but in final assessment, the pixie was in fact an angel. She smiled and shrugged it off. "That's okay," she said. "I mean, you just said you needed time. That was my fault."

Waves of relief washed over me in and I nodded with each wave. It wasn't her fault at all, but it was sweet of her not to slap me and dump my ass right there.

"Listen," she said, just when I was beginning to worry I'd ruined the whole day. "Why don't you come over to my place tonight?"

My heart flared; was she serious?

She saw the excitement in my eyes and went on with a bigger smile. "I mean, I'd love to see you, and I can tell you're not really ready to date in public. We could order dinner, maybe rent a couple more movies." She smirked and added, "And we'll be all alone, so you won't have to panic if I go to kiss you. In fact…"

She trailed off, looked about artfully, and lowered her voice to a sultry tone.

"Maybe we could make full use of that privacy and have sex again," she said. She smirked her sexy smirk and put a hand on my knee. I was so stunned I didn't even check if anyone could see. She caressed my knee and looked into my eyes. "Hm?" she said. "What do you think? I mean, I know I can't actually turn you, but there's no reason I can't try, right?"

My heart was racing and I licked my dry lips. "I think you probably can," I said, but deep down I was pretty sure she had turned me already.

That day ended up being one of the nicest days of my life. We strolled the park until a little after twelve, which was decent exercise for a Sunday morning, and we went for lunch at a café near the university where she worked. Afterwards we went shopping at the flea market, just for fun. Alice bought an orange sari with butterflies on it and I bought a few leather bracelets with studs on them. As we browsed the stalls and shops we talked more about our plans for tonight and soon we decided to make dinner together instead of ordering in.

We spent the afternoon grocery shopping and since it was the pixie's kitchen, I deferred to her on the recipe. We discussed it as we wandered the aisles of the store each with a basket at our elbow, and since we both enjoyed cooking we weren't shy of something a little complicated. She had a personal recipe for apricot chicken thighs that she said she'd love for me to try. I said I'd love to try her thighs, and while the pun was painfully obvious, she obliged me with a blush and a giggle. We picked up some chicken cutlets and a bottle of wine, and we took my car back to her place.

Where we were soon in the kitchen, bustling about the stove and chopping boards. She was a better cook than me, which was difficult to admit but a definite perk in a relationship, so I tried not to let it bother me. She had let me borrow her spare apron and I could see why it was the one she never wore. It was a baker's apron and emblazoned across the front in red writing it said: You should see my scones. I would've loved to see the pixie's scones, but I settled on glancing at her buns every time she bent to the oven. She caught me looking one time and nipped at me playfully with her lobster claw oven-mitt.

The chicken turned out fantastic, and I let her know as many times as possible. She kept reminding me that we'd both made it, but really I'd only helped. She had a dishwasher, but we washed the plates together at the sink, chatting idly, the hour advancing. We watched a movie and every now and then I'd glance at the clock, wondering when it was late enough to have sex. The movie was a regular romcom and it didn't really hold my interest. My mind drifted. I wondered what the pixie was going to do to me in bed and I got a bit horny. I shifted on the couch and I heard a sigh on my left. The pixie was bored with the movie too and joked that we should just turn it off and go to bed. I didn't laugh, but I nodded and said okay.

I was more comfortable than last night. It was weird, but last night already seemed like a long time ago. I felt like I'd come to terms with something today, although I had no idea what exactly. It was probably something to do with how much I liked the pixie. Until today she had been a fantasy, an ideal. But today I got to hang out with the actual person, the woman who likes to stroll in the park, who loves to shop, who does amazing things with chicken. The woman who forgives you for not kissing her in public. The woman who's just a little paranoid about straight-chicks. She was no longer a dream or a fantasy, she was a woman named Alice, and I really really liked her.

We took turns in the shower just like last night and just like last night we began by making out on the bed. Her kiss drove me crazy within minutes and soon I was pulling off her clothes and making little moans. We crawled under the covers and made out some more, rubbing our naked bodies against each other. My whole body was throbbing and I could feel myself slowly going adrift in the sheer perfection of her, the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her chest, the silky crevice between her legs. I caressed her there until she panted away an orgasm into my neck and then she ducked under the sheet. The sheet came to just below my breasts and I groaned as I felt her tongue enter me. I looked down at the shape of my open legs under the sheet and my naked chest heaved as I moaned out my own climax.

Afterwards we cuddled under the covers and caressed each other idly. We had been dating a grand total of two days but I knew even yesterday she was the One. It was so obvious. Well, after sex it was obvious. Orgasms must expel all the hormones that cause insecurity from the body. I'll probably doubt it all again in the morning, but for now…it was perfect.

She was laying at my side with a leg thrown over me and one of my breasts in her hand as if it was her favorite teddy. Her body seemed to fit against me perfectly, and I hated to break it up, but tomorrow was Monday, and she had to work in the morning. We had lapsed into sleepy silence and I gave her a little shake.

"Hey," I whispered, in case she was already asleep. "I better go home now. You got work in the morning, right?"

She shifted sleepily. "Yeah, but you can stay."

I looked about the room helplessly. I wasn't sex-drunk enough to believe that tomorrow morning was going to be so awkward-free that she'd enjoy having an almost total stranger in her apartment as she got ready for work. Besides, it was already way past midnight. She was going to have to be up early and a cranky pixie wasn't something I was eager to experience so soon in our relationship.

"That's okay," I said, squirming out from under her. "I'll just go home now so you don't have to deal with me in the morning."

It was a flimsy excuse, but for the best. I got out of bed and started putting my clothes on. She sat up in the bed and drew the sheet up to her chest, blinking sleepily.

"Are you sure?" she said. "You don't have to go."

There was only a little insecurity in her voice, but it was there. It made me feel terrible. I pulled my top on quickly and stuck my bra in my pocket to save time. I looked at her where she was sitting in the bed, black hair mussed, her huge eyes all sleepy and blinking. I went over and kissed her. She let me, even lifting her face. I broke the kiss and smiled at her.

"I just don't want to be a bother in the morning, that's all," I said. "I had an awesome time today. And tonight. Can I call you tomorrow?"

She smiled and gave a sleepy giggle. "Sure."

"Thanks," I said, and kissed her again. And this time I really kissed her. I let my tongue into her mouth and caressed her neck. She gave a little moan and shifted on the bed. She had been holding the sheet against her body but now she wrapped her arms around my neck. The sheet fell and when I broke the kiss I could see her perky little breasts.

She giggled and gathered up the sheet to cover herself. She didn't look quite so sleepy anymore. "You better go," she said. "Before I drag you back in here."

I was so tempted to pursue that line of flirtation, but I knew I should get home. We were already moving too fast and it would be silly to be here when she woke up for work in the morning. So I smiled and gave her one last peck on the lips.

"Sorry," I said. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Not if I call you first," she giggled.

—

Chapter 22:

—

The next morning, she didn't call. I didn't honestly expect her to call first thing in the morning—that was just ridiculous—but I had to admit I was disappointed. It made me wonder if I should call her? But that kind of defeated the purpose of leaving last night.

So I didn't call. And neither did she. I thought about it a lot over breakfast and the only conclusion I came to was that I appeared to be preoccupied by my relationship to an unhealthy degree. Two dates, we'd had. Not even sure if she was my official girlfriend. Yet here I was, hardly able to eat my cereal because I wasn't sure when I was supposed to call. Why did it have to be so complicated? Surely an early call would suggest that I really like her and can't wait to see her again. It wouldn't imply that I was needy at all.

Right?

I didn't know. Funny how being a woman myself gave me absolutely no insight into how a woman worked. These are creatures I write about, too. With quite a bit of success, I might add. Still, none of that helped me now. It wasn't the first time I'd felt like a love struck teenager lately, but this seemed silly. Obviously, calling her so early would be a stupid move and the correct thing to do was wait till tonight. There, completely simple. No reason to fret at all. And yet…

I picked up the phone. God, I really wanted to call her. Just to hear her voice. To let her know how needy she makes me. She'd be at work by now, so it wasn't really early anymore. Maybe she'd even appreciate the call. Maybe—

I put the phone down and blew out a breath. Chick was driving me crazy. Why is it so difficult to think straight when you're going gay?

I put my bowl in the sink and washed it quickly, dried it, put it away. I looked at the phone, glaring at it almost. It seemed to taunt me, daring me to call, to make a fool of myself. I picked it up, leaned a hip on the counter. I tried not to be nervous, but that didn't work. I began to think that maybe I should just call her. I mean, if it's something I feel so strongly about, then I might as well do it. Just to say hi and wish her a good day. It would be totally harmless. A thoughtful gesture, even. It wouldn't establish me as a mack-daddy pimp, but it wasn't likely to damage my case too badly.

But I didn't do it. Couldn't. There was a difference between moving fast and being an idiot, and I had to draw the line somewhere. I would call her tonight. And that's that.

With that settled, I went and sat at my computer with a large cup of coffee. I had decided to forget about it and throw myself into my writing. Which I didn't really feel like doing, but I didn't really have much choice. My contract with the publisher requires I scribble out a story or two each year, and frankly, the deadline was approaching. Since meeting the pixie, my enthusiasm for hetro-mance had plummeted a great deal, but hey; I wouldn't be the first person who didn't enjoy her work.

So I opened up the first draft of my latest—ahem—masterpiece and flexed my fingers. I went to start typing and—

Was it too late to call Alice? I looked at the clock. Part of me was still insisting that an early call would be really cute, but it was getting late for an early call. I could still squeeze it in if I called right now, but—

Okay, shut up, Bella. You're being stupid. Focus on the fucking book.

I heeded my inner voice and nodded at the screen. Okay. Time for the hook up scene, where the supernaturally hot vampire dude admits he has feelings for the ordinary highschool girl who isn't even that pretty. And forget personality. This chick makes cardboard look vibrant. In addition, she's also dumb and clumsy and has no interests in life at all aside from mooning over a vampire who's having trouble not killing her for dinner while acting jealously possessive every other page. Alas, the age of smart and independent heroines is dead. Modern audiences prefer as useless a female as possible. Sad. But it's easier to write, so I'm not complaining.

But anyway, none of that was important right now. Right now I needed to decide whether or not to call Alice. Time's ticking, and—

I had almost worked myself into a genuine fit of anxiety when a new idea gave me a jolt.

Flowers.

I could send her flowers.

I froze at my desk as my crush-frazzled brain analyzed this idea for hidden flaws. But none were immediately apparent. It was actually a really sweet gesture. We had sex but I didn't stay the night – so instead of calling like an idiot, I could send her flowers. To let her know she's great and I really like her. It was perfect. Cliché, sure, but still kind of perfect. And it wouldn't involve talking to her, so it was far easier, too.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I quickly navigated to an online florist and selected a bouquet that seemed way too expensive for something that was going to wilt and get thrown out in a few days. Sheesh, what a waste of money. No wonder guys hate buying flowers. But it's the thought that counts, so I clicked my way through the checkout and had them sent directly to the pixie at the university where she worked. Within a couple hours, she would be delivered an elegant posy of red and pink roses.

Then I paused.

Oh god, what have I done?

Somehow it hit me that this was even worse than calling. But no, no, no. Chicks dig flowers. Well, I don't. But most women do. The pixie probably loves them. It was romantic. A lovely night, flowers in the morning. I just hoped it wouldn't make her feel like some kind of prostitute who takes payment in flowers.

It took me about ten minutes, but eventually I managed to convince myself that I did the right thing. The pixie would, in all likelihood, be thrilled, and now I no longer had to worry about calling her until after she got the flowers – which would be past lunchtime at least. Till then – I had a book to write.

My creativity took a while to kindle, but eventually I got into a decent rhythm. It helped that I'd essentially written the same scene in three other novels before with slight variances. Sometimes the vampire dude has lighter hair, for instance. But I had to admit, I wasn't really feeling it. Luckily, I was well-versed in the verbs associated with the dim-witted attraction a girl feels for that special vampire who saunters into her life for no particular reason, and it was only a matter of arranging them in a way that made sense. When I got to the part where they kissed, I actually rolled my eyes as I typed out how the heroine's lips burned under his. Now that I'd actually experienced these melodramatic sensations with the pixie, they seemed even more preposterous than ever. I mean, there's only one pixie. You can't just kiss any old—

The phone rang.

My heart stopped.

Instantly I thought it was Alice. It seemed to be the only possibility that made sense. She had gotten the flowers, loved them, and now she was calling to tell me how great I was. So I hopped up from my chair and grabbed the phone off the wall. My heart was fluttering and I gave in to a romantic impulse.

"Hey, beautiful," I said. "Did you get the flowers?"

"Err," said a voice. A masculine voice. "You were expecting someone else, right?"

"Shit," I said, a hot blush engulfing my face. I was embarrassed at swearing, so I added, "I mean, fuck." Then I shook my head and said, "I mean, uh…who is this?"

"It's Edward Masen," said the voice. "From Masen Publishing. You may remember me?"

I closed my eyes, humiliated. Sure, I remembered him. He was the guy I used to try and prevent myself from going gay – not a very successful experiment.

"Uh, sure," I said, and felt a flicker of suspicion. "You still got my number?"

I heard him chuckle once. "It's on file at the office," he clarified.

"Oh," I said, feeling even more like an idiot. "Right."

"I was hoping to speak to you for a minute," he went on, "about business. Do you have a moment?"

I knitted my brows in confusion. "Uh, sure," I said. "But usually Angela or my agent handles all my business stuff, I don't really…"

"Actually, this is more of an informal consultation. I need someone's advice regarding a new author we're considering signing and you're the first person that came to mind."

I admit, it took me off-guard. Granted, I'm an author, but I'm no professor of literature. "Uh, me?" I said. "Why me?"

"Well, your subject matter is similar to the subject matter in question, and I figure you'd know what works in the genre and what doesn't. I, personally, have no idea."

Still wasn't making much sense. I shrugged a shoulder. "Well, romance isn't complicated," I said. "In fact, it's one of the last few formula fictions that exist. It's really just a matter of combining the right clichés into a bigger cliché."

"Great," he said. "So I can count on your expert opinion?"

"Err," I said, in order to hesitate. I sounded like a retard, but I was a little stumped. I wasn't excited about the idea of extra home-work, but technically the guy was my boss, and I wasn't sure if you were even allowed to say no to your boss. So I shrugged and said, "Sure. So, uh, what exactly is the deal?"

"Basically, I'm under pressure from the executives to sign this new author based on an idea for a series she pitched and the fact that she's related to one of the board members. They want to offer her a twelve book deal, with a fairly substantial signing bonus, plus heavy promotion for the whole series."

I raised an eyebrow. "Sweet deal," I said. Sweeter than I ever got.

"Exactly," he said. "They think these books are going to be the next big thing and they want the author locked down so she can't take her series to the highest bidder after we make her popular."

"Smart."

"Yes, but only assuming that these books are as successful as the executives think they will be. And with the publishing house in the financial state that it's in, I'm not sure it's worth the risk. That's where you come in."

I snorted. "You want me to predict if these books will be successful or not? Sorry, I'm not really psychic. Maybe you could try a horoscope?"

"I want you to take a look at the pitched material and some of the author's earlier work and give me an educated guess on whether or not it's worth taking a chance on. My first instinct is to play it safe, but we could make a lot of money by acting on this quickly."

I was nodding, but none of this was really lighting a fire inside me. I didn't give a fuck about any new author and if her subject matter was similar to my I sure as fuck didn't want to read it. I can barely tolerate my own drivel.

But he was my boss, and I did kind of know him personally. All things considered, I could probably do him a favor without straining myself too badly. Be good to get paid, though.

"Uh huh," I said. "And what exactly do I get out of all this?"

He chuckled. "A modest consultant's fee," he said. "And, of course, a nice business dinner at a fine restaurant to discuss your impressions. Have you ever been to Canlis?

My stomach lurched and a cloud of butterflies fluttered up in suspicion. Suddenly it hit me that I was being offered fluff work that I wasn't really qualified for by a boss I used to date and whom still might like me, all culminating with a business dinner at a fine restaurant with no doubt romantic lighting. Is it possible I'm being played, perchance?

"Can't say I have," I said noncommittally.

"You'll love it," he said. "It's one of the finest restaurants in Seattle. How's Friday for you?"

I hesitated. In his defense, he was very cool and business-like. But I didn't like how he was just assuming that I had already agreed. I was free to back out, of course, but I'm afraid I didn't have the balls for such a proactive refusal. Besides, what was there to be afraid of? Just because I'd had a flicker of paranoia, doesn't mean he's actually hatching some ridiculous scheme to try and get me back. That only happens in movies, and even then it never works.

Still, Friday night was Friday night. I had no plans with Alice, but it was still early in the week. Did I really want to forfeit a potential Friday night with Alice for extra work? There was money involved I guess, but I was doing okay. Honestly, I think I would prefer to avoid the whole deal.

I was actually about to edge toward refusal when a new idea stopped me. Actually, it was an idea I'd been having for the last month. It was an idea for a book involving, well, a lesbian protagonist. Ever since I'd been awakened to the fact that chicks are kind of hot, I've had an itch to write something that takes advantage of all these new thoughts and feelings. I never thought about it seriously since lesbian romance has almost zero marketability, but what if I was wrong? It couldn't hurt to pitch the idea and see what he thinks. The thought was actually exciting – deep down I'd been dying to try something fresh for a long time.

In any case, I don't think I would've been able to say no, anyway. Money's money and a job's a job. So I cleared my throat to cover the silence and nodded into the phone.

"Uh, sure," I said. "Friday's okay, I guess."

"Great," he said. I tried to analyze his voice for hints of what he was up to, but he just sounded normal. "I'll have all the material sent over by courier. It'll be there this afternoon, so you'll have a few days to mull it over."

"Okay," I said, "and hey - what's the dress code like at this Canlis place?"

He gave a chuckle. "It's very dressy."

I frowned, the butterflies in my stomach stirring sullenly. "So I'll have to wear something nice?"

"I'm afraid so," he said.

I sighed. "That consultant's fee better be worth it."

He chuckled again, and I could hear in his voice he was about to hang up. "I'll have my assistant get back to you with the details," he said. "See you Friday."

"Yeah," I said. "Bye."

I put the phone back in the cradle and frowned for a bit. I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe there was more to this dinner than business, but that was silly. We'd only dated a couple times, and I didn't think he liked me that much. Plus, he knew I wasn't into guys anymore – or at least, not into them at the moment. But it didn't really make sense, either. Why me? I'm sure there were plenty other people just as qualified, if not more so. And why does he need a second opinion at all? Does he really have that much to lose by signing a dud?

I didn't know, and I wasn't likely to figure it out. So I went back to my computer and sat down. It occurred to me that it hadn't been the pixie on the phone and I got anxious all over again. I really thought it was going to be her. Has she even got the flowers yet? Did she like them?

I glanced at the clock, but I didn't know when the flowers would arrive. The website had simply said 'same day delivery' and left me hoping for the best. And beyond this, who's to say she would even call after she gets them? What if she's allergic to roses? What if she thinks they're stupid? What if—

The phone rang again.

I froze.

I told myself it couldn't possibly be the pixie, but my heart rate picked up anyway. I approached the phone and this time I checked the caller ID. Yep – it was Alice.

This time I wasn't so cocky. If she didn't like the flowers, I'm gonna stick my head in the oven, I swear to god. I picked up the phone.

"Hey," I said.

"Hi!" she chirped back, and her happy tone instantly set me at ease. "The flowers just arrived, that was so sweet," she gushed. "Oh my god, I almost died. I went around showing everyone and bragging about how sweet my girlfriend is. They're so beautiful."

I grinned like a fool. Not only did she like the flowers, but she referred to me as her girlfriend, too. It was good to have that sorted out. I didn't like how she told people about me, though – it was almost slander. Still, I was too thrilled to let it bother me.

"Thanks," I said, and chuckled. "You know, I think I'm starting to get the hang of dating a chick. All I gotta do is imagine what I want and then do it for you."

"Oh no! Does that mean you were secretly hoping I'd send you flowers?"

"No, no, that's not…"

"Relax," she said, giggling happily. "I'm only kidding."

"Oh," I chuckled.

"Just keeping you on your toes," she went on. "Women are complicated, don't you forget it. Just because I'm fainting over flowers right now doesn't mean I won't be totally pissy at you the next minute for reasons you can't even figure out. Be warned."

I smiled; god, she was cute. "I'll keep it in mind."

She giggled again, such a beautiful sound. "So, hey," she said. "I was thinking we could get together on Friday, and maybe go out. You know, in public. Just a standard kind of date, dinner and a movie. What do you think?"

Well. Isn't that typical?

"Uh, Friday?" I squeaked.

"Yeah, there's this new movie coming out," she said. "I've been _dying_ to see it. It opens on Friday, we gotta be there."

"On Friday," I repeated, hoping I hadn't heard right.

"Yeah, Friday night," she said, and then she giggled. "It'll be so much fun. Let's see if you can figure out if you're supposed to buy my ticket or not. I've always been a femme at heart, but butch girls don't seem to take their role seriously these days. Of course, it's a much harder role to play properly. Who wants to pick up checks and wear pants? I'd rather just look pretty and giggle all the time."

I already felt like shit. She was clearly very excited about being at the opening of this movie, and I didn't think she was going to be happy to find out I already had plans. Fuck. If only she'd called half an hour ago. Or if I'd simply called her in the morning like I had _wanted_ to, instead of hesitating like a hopeless schoolgirl. Jeez, what kind of stupid luck is this?

"Um, yeah," I said, my stomach churning. "The thing is, though – I'm kind of busy Friday night."

"Busy?" she said, not quite disappointed, but close. "Busy with what?"

"It's a business dinner, I only found out today. Just before you called."

"Oh," she said simply.

Then she went silent. I had been expecting a little more, but there didn't seem to be any. My eyes darted at the phone and my mouth was frozen open, no idea what to say.

"But I could reschedule, I guess," I said finally. "Or just cancel."

"Oh, no, no, no," she said quickly, "you don't have to do that. Is it important?"

"Kind of" I admitted. "It comes with a bonus and an opportunity to pitch a new idea I've been thinking about. But if you really wanted to see the movie…"

"Oh, forget about that," she said, adding a giggle. "It's just a movie, it doesn't matter."

I felt somewhat relieved, but I still felt terrible. Not just for bailing on her so early in our relationship, but because I wanted to see her, too.

"You sure?" I asked, hoping she'd actually talk me out of it. "Because really, it's not a big deal. I could probably reschedule for Saturday."

"Don't be silly, it's just a movie," she said, but she didn't giggle this time. "You shouldn't waste an opportunity like that over a movie."

"But if you've really been looking forward to it…"

"Don't worry about it, I'll just go with Leah."

My stomach clenched.

Did I just hear that properly?

"Oh, her," I said, unsure if I was allowed to be a little prickled or not. "She's the, um—you're still friends with her?"

"Yeah," she giggled. "Just friends, don't worry."

I was a little relieved, but not much. Honestly, I didn't want her going anywhere with that woman – that tall, dark, and sexy woman that she used to enjoy casual sex with. I was about to tell her that I'll just reschedule the dinner and we'll go together, but she was speaking again.

"Listen, I gotta get back to work," she said, much to my dismay. "We'll just get together on Saturday, okay? I'll probably wanna see the movie twice, anyway. I really wanted to go with you, but…"

She trailed off, and I quickly said, "Well, maybe I could see you after dinner? I could come over to your place."

"Uh, yeah, sure," she said. "Listen, I gotta go. Thanks for the flowers, I really liked them. I'm smelling them right now. Mmmm!"

She made a loud sniffing sound and a giggle, and I could just imagine her holding the posy to her cute little button nose. The image warmed my heart, but I still felt bad.

"Okay," I said. "See you."

"Bye!" she chirped, and hung up.

I slowly put the phone back in the cradle and looked down at the floor with a thoughtful air. It took me a moment to catch up with what had just happened. Most of it was just bad luck, but there was a fair amount of stupidity in there, too. I should've just told her I'd reschedule. I mean, he probably hadn't even made the reservations yet. Or better still, I shouldn't have even mentioned I had plans on Friday. I should've just shut up and rescheduled.

And now look what's happened. I miss out on a Friday night date, and even worse – she's going out with her ex instead. What's up with that, anyway? The way she just slipped it in like that – was she deliberately trying to provoke me? That's almost what it felt like. But no, that was silly – she wasn't even upset.

Was she?

I didn't know, but somehow I had the feeling that I just had my first encounter with the subtleties of the female temper. Until now I'd only had to deal with my own, but I had a fair knowledge of how it worked. I had offered repeatedly to cancel or reschedule, and she had told me repeated not to worry about it. This meant that she was either genuinely not bothered, or that she was secretly hurt and disappointed that I didn't insist on rescheduling so I could spend the night with her instead. And based on my own experiences with passive-aggressive date-manipulation, I had to suspect the latter.

But even that didn't make sense because I _did_ offer to reschedule. Many times. I told her it was no big deal. All she had to do was say okay, and I would've cancelled the whole thing. But she said it was fine, so it must be. There was no reason to think she was upset. In fact, it was almost insulting to think she was upset. After all, this was an actual business opportunity. She couldn't really want me to blow that off to see a movie. I mean, I know I could've just offered to reschedule, but—

Oh god, I need to shut up. I'm giving myself a fucking headache.

Shaking my head, I got a bottle of water out the fridge and went back to my desk. But I didn't think I'd be writing anymore today. All this thinking had worn me out. I touched the cold water bottle to my forehead and reflected on my stupidity. The worst thing was that I'd agreed to see her after dinner, which meant she would go on Friday with her friend Leah, which meant there no longer any point rescheduling. She had been so excited to see that movie with me, too.

Oh well. I'll just have to make it up to her, that's all. She said I could come over after dinner, so that's when I'll do it. I'll bring her some more flowers, since she loved them so much, and I'll make it up to her with sex.

Yeah, that'll work.

—

Chapter 23:

—

I didn't see Alice all week, so I wasn't in a very good mood by Friday. I know we'd only just met a couple weeks ago, but when you fall in love at first sight you kind of wanna get on with the happily ever after as soon as possible.

But reality does tend to move a little slower than fairytales, and it would seem to include business dinners as well. The reservations were made for eight o'clock and I had a full report prepared on the material he had sent over. I was confident in my opinions and ready to present them. So the only real worry I had was deciding what to wear.

It was a surprisingly difficult problem. If it was just a plain old business dinner, I'd just wear a plain old blazer and pants. But since I was seeing the pixie afterwards and since I wasn't exactly sure if she was a little angry with me or not, I was tempted to go for something hotter. To maybe distract her, soften her up a little. But at the same time, I didn't want to give my business 'date' any ideas, either. After all, the last time I saw this guy I'd let him put his hand up my skirt. I fled the apartment soon after, of course, but all the same, I didn't want my outfit to suggest that I might be willing to allow him similar liberties tonight.

In the end, I let good sense guide me and went with a white blouse and a black blazer, and I completed the arrangement with a black business skirt and black panties underneath. Casual, but classy. The perfect outfit to impress one's boss and butter up one's girlfriend afterward – especially once she gets under the skirt.

The restaurant, _Canlis_ , was generally considered the finest in the city, the kind of place you'd go to for a silver anniversary or a milestone birthday. Or a casual business dinner if you happened to be the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation.

The valet was an exceptionally friendly young man who greeted me with a huge smile and offered to park my car as if he'd been waiting specifically for me and now his life was complete. He was such an angel about it I felt bad for only tipping him half the contents of my purse. I then went inside were I was accosted by a finely dressed maître de who inquired in a regal tone after my reservation. I was then directed to an attractive blonde hostess, who was disconcertingly dressed almost exactly the same as me, aside from a gold nameplate on her lapel. They were very busy tonight, apparently, and my 'companion' for the evening was waiting in the lounge.

He was sitting at the bar, sipping a martini. Dressed in a loose-fitting dark-colored suit. Many of the small tables were taken by couples waiting to be seated and there was a grand piano in the corner with another blonde behind the keys. I was beginning to sense some discrimination in the restaurant's hiring practices of women, but before I could write a letter to the EEOC, I was shown to my companion.

"Hi," I said to him, "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was…"

I trailed off, waving a hand. He smiled and nodded, and I noticed he was as handsome as he always was. Shame. If he was a little uglier and a little poorer, I wouldn't have to regret what a total lesbian I was becoming.

"That's fine," he said. "Drink?"

I looked at the array of bottles arranged on the oakwood shelves behind the bar as I sat down on a stool beside him. I had a feeling I was expected to order some kind of cocktail, but none came to mind. "I'll just have some wine," I said. "A chardonnay or something."

He nodded and raised a finger to signal the bartender. The bartender was female, yet another blonde, and she came over to him with a big smile. But the smile dimmed slightly when he ordered my drink. It was something you'd do for a date, and she had apparently been hoping he was alone. Poor thing.

"So," he said, turning to me. "Have you had a chance to go over the material I sent you?"

I nodded, and I was grateful we could move straight to business. It did a lot to ease my suspicions that he had some ulterior motive for inviting me to dinner.

But then again, maybe not.

The waitress bought my drink with a smile that could've chilled the wine, and he watched me as I took a quick sip. It was only after I set the glass down when I noticed his eyes had been lingering on my lips.

It was over half an hour before we were seated in the actual restaurant, and by then we had discussed pretty much everything we needed to discuss. Which made one question the need for the actual dinner. I considered bringing this up so I might be able to skip it and see Alice early, but then I remembered she was at the movies – with Leah. Ironic, really. Our plans didn't work out and our solution was to spend time instead with people we used to date and who still might like us. The only difference was that there was no chance of me rekindling any feelings. But her? Leah was a close friend, a sexy bitch, and someone who could confidently date a chick in public. To be honest, I was a little worried.

In any case, skipping dinner was silly. Only assholes cancel reservations, and I had to eat sometime.

So we sat down at a corner table. The walls were glass and I had a view that looked out over the glittering nightscape of Seattle. A candle burned in a glass dish between us, and he looked even more handsome in the warm orange uplight. Our business discussion had settled into small talk about books in general, and I made him smile and laugh a lot at how I made fun of my own work and the work of other authors. The food was frugal, but picturesque in ways I never imagined food could be. All in all, it was a very romantic atmosphere. I'd have to remember to take Alice here sometime.

Edward was his usual charming self, and I'll admit I did a few mental experiments over dinner. I found myself studying his face and wondering if I found it attractive at all. It was surprisingly difficult to tell, but I suppose that was telling enough. His smile was pleasing, but it certainly didn't turn me on and didn't give me any flickers. He was cute, but not like the pixie. Not like Alice.

I was mildly surprised at this, so next I actually tried forcing myself to be attracted to him, just out of curiosity. But even that didn't really work. Just to be safe, I pictured myself having sex with him as well, but that didn't do much for me, either, aside from ruining my appetite a little. I didn't know why I was surprised, anyway. Men had never driven me crazy, and lately it was only the model-handsome ones who didn't outright disgust me. I guess I was hoping I might turn out to be bi, which seemed like the lesser of two evils. Ah well. In a way, I guess it was good news. If I wanted a serious relationship with the pixie, it would certainly help if I was all the way gay. Besides, in the long run I think I'd prefer my orientation to be as neat as possible – bisexuality seemed just a little untidy. One gender will be enough, thank you.

It was late by the time we finished dinner, and I was shocked at how long we'd taken to eat such a minuscule meal. We finished by summarizing my opinions on the prospects of the new author they were considering signing. Basically, I told him to go ahead. From everything I knew, she definitely had an idea that would sell millions, and based on what I read of her earlier work, she had the talent to pull it off as well. He nodded as I explained all this again and smiled.

"This is good news," he said. "This is a great deal off my mind."

"Happy to help," I said, although I still didn't know why he needed my advice on this. Angela or practically any other female in the building could've told him the exact same thing. I had a feeling he simply wanted to see me again, and this whole consultation was just an excuse. I'd noticed him staring at me a couple times, and I remembered how he'd gotten the 'business' out of the way before we'd even sat down to dinner. All signs indicated he still had a crush – yet at the same time, he hadn't made any kind of move, either. Maybe—

"Well," he said. "Would you like dessert?"

Ah. Maybe now comes the move.

I had been gathering up my purse to leave, and now I paused. "Dessert?"

He smiled and lifted a hand to signal a waiter. "Why not?" he said. "Unless you're in a rush?"

Actually, I was. It was getting kind of late. The pixie might be home by now, and I didn't think it would reassure her if I was late because I'd chosen to stay behind and have dessert with a guy of all things.

"Actually, yeah," I said. "I'm supposed to be meeting my, uh… My…"

Naturally, I tripped on the word girlfriend, which, naturally, only drew more attention to it. To make it worse, there wasn't even any need to be coy. He knew I liked chicks – I had explained it to him when I was explaining why I didn't want to sleep with his male ass. He was actually the first person I'd told.

"Girlfriend?" he inquired, lowering his hand. The waiter stopped half-way across the restaurant, hesitated, and retreated back to where he came from.

"Yeah," I said. "We were supposed to go to the movies tonight, but…"

"You should've called, we could've rescheduled."

"Gee," I said with a snort. "I wish I thought of that."

He smiled at my tone. "I remember the last time we met, you mentioned there was a certain girl who caught you're eye. Is this the same girl?"

I nodded, feeling the familiar flutter of butterflies at the mention of Alice. My pixie. I tried not to smile like a fool, but I did a little. "Yeah," I gushed.

"And how's that working out for you?"

"Well, we've only been dating a little while, but you know." I gave a goofy chuckle. "She's amazing."

He smiled. "Well, I'm happy for you," he said, and he seemed to actually mean it – which wasn't really consistent with my theory of him trying to get back into my pants. Maybe I need to stop over-analyzing things. I obviously suck at it.

"Thanks," I said. "What about you, you seeing anyone?"

He chuckled once and shook his head. "No," he said. "I've been so busy lately, I haven't had time."

I nodded, but inside I felt another flicker of suspicion. No time, huh? Had the time to see me, though. But dinner was over and there was no point worrying about it anymore, so I picked up my purse and rose from my chair.

"Well, if you want a sure thing," I said, "give Angela a visit sometime. She'll hook you up, right in the office."

He rose as well, half smiling. "Isn't Ms Webber married?"

"Are you kidding?" I snorted. "She'd cut her husband's brake lines if it gave her a shot at you."

He chuckled, but he didn't say if he was interested.

He charged the meal to the company, and after sneaking a peek at the check, I decided that maybe it wasn't worth taking the pixie here after all. If I saved up all my money and put it in a high interest savings account, I might be able to afford it as a treat on our fiftieth anniversary.

He walked me all the way out to the parking lot and we stood together under the awning while we waited for the valet to bring around my car. It had started raining, and the pitter patter on the awning above us made it impossible to chat, so we just stood there, side by side with the rain splashing in the street. He had his hands in his pockets and I was wrapped up in my coat. It was very cold. He kept glancing at me, and when my car finally rolled up, he shuffled his feet and turned to me.

"Well, it was nice seeing you again," he said, his words vaguely date-like. "Take care."

I nodded, and spoke up over the rain. "You too," I said, and then I ducked through the rain into the car. I looked at him once as I shut the door, and he waved through the window. I lifted a hand, dropped it, and drove away with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I had promised to stop over-analyzing things, but honestly I was confused. I liked the guy, but I didn't. He was cute, but he wasn't. I had a good time, but not really. None of it made sense, but you know what? Fuck it. So what if some guy likes me? That's his problem. I'm not under any obligation to like him back. I have a girlfriend now, a girlfriend who is pretty, and perfect – and kind of pissed at me for bailing on something she really wanted to do. And it was his fault, really. I never asked for the extra work. It was good to make a little extra money, but all things considered, I would've preferred to avoid the whole thing. In any case, it was time to stop thinking about Edward and start focusing on how I can make it up to Alice.

That's when I remembered flowers. I'd been so distracted that I had to actually turn around to find a florist. I hoped the detour wouldn't make me late, and I drove the rest of the way with the bouquet on the passenger seat beside me. I was still wondering about Edward, but I managed not to pluck the petals from one of the flowers and play 'he loves me, he loves me not.'

I'm an adult, dammit.

—

Chapter 24:

—

It was pretty late by the time I got to the pixie's apartment. I knocked on the door and held the bouquet in my hands. My face featured a slight frown and I had the strangest feeling that I was forgetting something important. But I had the flowers, and I was pretty sure—

The door swung open and she didn't look particularly thrilled to see me. She actually looked a little annoyed, as if I'd come at a bad time. She looked at the flowers in my hands and the look was a little dry.

"Oh," she said. "More flowers. Thanks."

She took them and gave them a sniff. I tried to smile, but I was thrown off. I wasn't expecting her to do a cartwheel, but a glowing smile would have been nice.

I followed her into the apartment, feeling like an idiot, and began apologizing.

"Sorry I'm late," I said. "Traffic was a—"

We had just walked into the kitchen, and there leaning against the counter in a cocky slouch was my girlfriend's former fuck-buddy named Leah.

"—bitch," I said, but I was still talking about the traffic.

Well, mostly.

She was wearing black leather, and I felt a surge of jealousy. I'd never be able to get away with an outfit like that – and what the fuck was she doing here, anyway?

A more jealous woman might've jumped to the conclusion that my girlfriend was cheating on me. But they both appeared to be clothed, and the pixie didn't seem guilty or in any way abashed. In fact, she didn't look overly pleased with either of her guests. Her brow was furrowed in a pucker that would've been cute aside from the simmer in her honey brown eyes.

"Leah was just leaving," she said, by way of explanation. "She came over after the movie."

"Oh," I said, and then turned a polite smile to the woman who was turning out to be my rival. "Hi."

She didn't answer, she just looked at me coldly. There was a black motorcycle helmet sitting on the counter beside her, and I felt another surge of jealousy as I pictured the pixie on the back of a bike behind her.

Alice was putting the flowers in a vase and filling it at the sink. I used the moment to arrange some mental insults for this woman who was in my girlfriend's apartment. I had begun to think of something stereotypical about dykes and bikes, but then I remembered she was bi. Chick should just get a boyfriend. Whore.

The pixie set the vase on the counter and adjusted a couple of the flowers, as if that would make it prettier. Leah glared at her.

"We weren't finished talking," she said.

The pixie had been smiling at the flowers, as if maybe she did like them after all, but she frowned at the other woman's tone. "Yes, we were," she said. "We had nothing to talk about to begin with."

Harsh. Heehee.

Obviously they had been in the middle of some kind of argument before I arrived. Possibly the brunette was trying to get into my girlfriend's pants without success – that would frustrate anybody. In any case, she didn't seem pleased. She unleaned from the counter and pointed a finger at me.

"So you kick me out as soon as _she_ shows up?" she demanded.

She said it with so much disgust that she seemed to have a point. I turned to the pixie for her response. She narrowed her eyes at her former flame.

"Well, one of you is my girlfriend and one of you isn't," she said. "Who do you think I should kick out?"

Ouch. Checkmate.

Leah glowered at her for a second, then grabbed her helmet off the counter. "Fine," she said. She turned her glare to me for a moment and I tried not to smile. Then she stormed out the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

The slam actually startled the pixie. She jumped slightly, obviously frazzled from whatever episode she'd been going through with the other girl, and we stood silently in the kitchen for a second. She took a deep breath and fixed her face into a smile.

"So," she said, as if nothing had happened. "How was dinner?"

I could appreciate a well-timed subject change as much as anybody, but as her girlfriend, I felt I ought to know the particulars of the argument they were having. "It was alright," I said, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the door. "Did I interrupt something?"

Alice chuckled once and shook her head. "Just Leah being Leah," she said. "I wish she'd go out and find someone else instead of holding out for me."

Ah. It was as I thought. I nodded, as if I agreed with her, but I wondered if I shouldn't be a little rankled. After all, if it's so clear the other woman likes her, why does the pixie lead her on? Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but I felt I should point this out to her.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't spend so much time with her," I said. "Maybe you might be giving her the wrong idea?"

I tried to phrase it like a suggestion, so she wouldn't get defensive about it.

It didn't work.

Her smile went a little cold and she put her hands on her hips. "Well, you weren't here," she said. "What was I supposed to do? Go alone?"

Okay, now I was rankled. I would've gladly preferred to spend time with her and I had offered repeatedly to reschedule. All she had to do was say so.

But that wasn't even the point. The point was, she had gone out with an ex-girlfriend to spite me. Which was pretty sucky, when you thought about it.

So I let my brow dip into a frown and I may have raised my voice a little. "Oh, so you don't have any other friends?" I retorted. "You had to pick the one who's in love with you?"

She frowned right back at me. "Leah's my best friend," she said, now defending the woman she'd just kicked out of her apartment. Then her eyes flashed, and with a bit of heat she added, "And at least Leah was never embarrassed to be seen with me in public."

Her tone was full of accusation, and the accusation itself caught me off guard. I thought we were arguing about me bailing on a date and her reprisal of going out with a sexy ex instead. But somehow we'd taken a detour.

For a second I didn't know what to say, and neither did she. The accusation was so absurd that even she seemed startled that it had come out. We had been in public only one time in our whole relationship and I was only very recently gay, so obviously I could be excused for a little shyness in public. But I guess it bothered her more than I thought when I turned away from her kiss that day in the park, and now she just blurted out it by accident.

To be honest, I thought it was cute. I'd been so fixated on my own confusion that I never thought what it was like for her. Obviously her anxieties about me were a little deeper than I thought.

I tried not to smile, but the corner of my mouth quirked up slightly. "Excuse me?" I said.

The anger had leaked out of her when she realized she was overreacting, but she still tried to pout. "Well, you are," she said. "Aren't you?"

"Well, I'm not entirely comfortable," I said honestly. "But I thought you understood?"

She lowered her eyes, abashed at her outburst. "I do," she said. "But I've been through all this before. And…"

She trailed off, shaking her head. Her eyes landed on the flowers, and then she lowered them again. I didn't exactly know what she was getting at, but I thought it was my turn to be the understanding one. I stepped up close to her and lowered my voice.

"And what?" I asked.

She sighed and gave me a smile, as if it was no big deal. "Nothing," she said. "I just get annoyed easily, that's all. Sorry."

I nodded and we fell silent. I didn't know if I should let it go or prod a little more, but it seemed safest to let it go now that we had cooled down. I had the urge to wrap my arm around her shoulders and comfort her somehow, but I wasn't sure if I was allowed to. How do guys determine when it's safe to touch a chick? I knew from experience that a woman only likes to be touched when the time is right. But how do you tell when the woman is someone other than yourself?

It was me who broke the silence. I said, "So, was the movie good?"

Lame, but it did the trick.

Alice shrugged a shoulder and shook her head a little. "Nah," she said. "Not as good as I was hoping."

I was encouraged, so I sidled a little closer. "Well, maybe we could see something else tomorrow," I suggested. "There's got to be something worth seeing."

"Okay," she said, happy with that. Then she waved a hand and went apologetic. "And I'm sorry about spazing out, I just…"

I nodded understandingly. "It's alright."

She snorted a chuckle and shook her head at herself. "My patience with straight chicks is pretty thin," she said. "If I didn't like you so much, I wouldn't even…"

My heart jumped.

Chick liked me.

It was nothing I didn't know already, but my body loved to hear it out loud. I sensed the mood was upon us, so I smiled and put a hand at her waist, under her jacket. Her brow puckered, but I didn't quite notice.

"Listen, I'm sorry I couldn't go tonight," I said. "I really wanted to see that movie with you." I let my smile tilt into a smirk and slipped my hand under her top. Her skin was smooth and warm. I went to kiss her. "Let me make it up to you, okay?"

She pulled back.

My heart sank, but then it floated back up when I realized she was smiling.

"You're gonna make it up to me with sex?" she asked.

"Um," I said, unsure what the correct answer was. I blinked and licked my lips. "Yeah?"

"Oh my god," she laughed, "what are you, a dude?"

I chuckled and blushed. "These days, I don't even know."

She giggled and wrapped her arms around my neck. "It's okay," she said, and began pulling me toward her lips. "You're hot enough to get away with it."

My lips landed on hers and the softness of them caused a cloud of butterflies to flutter up in my stomach. Her hands began caressing my neck and face, and my cheeks began burning. I wrapped my arms around her middle and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. She moaned and I moaned, and then she began taking off my clothes.

Oh yeah.

Score.

—

Later that night we were in bed, drowsing in each other arms, naked under the covers. She was all snuggled up beside me and I was having a moment where I was extremely happy to be a lesbian. The sex was amazing, and the cuddling? Like cuddling a cloud – a warm, smooth, soft, silky, sexy little cloud.

"Mmm," she said, snuggling her head against my shoulder. "That was great."

"Yeah," I agreed with a dreamy chuckle.

"And you're staying over tonight, right?"

Fuck.

"Um…"

She raised up slightly and looked at me in the dark. "You're not?"

I couldn't see her, but at least her voice wasn't upset. I'd hate to make her pissy so soon after making her pissy. "Well, I have to go to a birthday party in the morning," I said. "My bestfriend's daughter. She's nine, I'm practically an aunt."

"Oh," she said, settling back down against me.

"But I could cancel it," I suggested.

"No, no, no," she said quickly. "You go, I don't mind."

We were silent for a moment. Then we chuckled together at the irony of that exchange.

"No, seriously," she said, "it's fine. We'll get together tomorrow night. We'll go see that movie again. Maybe it'll be better if I see it with you."

"Okay."

She sighed and hooked her leg around me, as if to ensnare me. Girl likes to snuggle. "But stay tonight," she said. "You can leave early if you want, but stay."

My arms were wrapped around her and I tightened them a little in a quick squeeze. "Okay," I said, and placed a kiss on her sweet-smelling hair.

—

Chapter 25:

—

I was the first one up in the morning. My eyes fluttered and blinked and the first thing I saw was someone's arm. It was draped across me over the top of the covers. A very slim arm, with a bracelet on its tiny wrist. I turned my head on the pillow and there she was.

My pixie.

It was dim in the room with the curtains closed, but there was more than enough light to admire her. Eyes closed with such long eyelashes. No makeup, flawless skin. Her lips a pale shade of pink. A pleasant feeling had begun to spread through me as I gazed at her, and I do believe I sighed. Last night had been amazing. It was the third time we'd had sex and I didn't anticipate losing count any time soon. I had a feeling it was going to be new and incredible for quite a while. I'd probably get over that mild queasiness when I went down on her, too.

I know it's creepy to stare at a girl while she sleeps, but I couldn't help it. She was just so cute. I could even see her boobs – the covers had had been pushed down slightly so she could put her arm around me. They were as cute as the rest of her. And I mean fucking adorable. But I didn't want to be a creep, so I smiled and lifted my eyes back to her face. I knew I had to get up and head home, but I wanted to savor the moment. It really did feel so nice, to be here, in her bed, smiling at her peaceful face with the weight of her arm draped across my chest, peeking at her boobs.

Magic.

Hard to believe we only met a few weeks ago, but I guess that's what love at first sight is all about. I still didn't really believe in it, but it was nice to think so. I sighed again and turned my eyes to the hand that was resting on the covers. Smiling, I snaked my own hand out and placed it over the top of hers. A tender moment. Too bad she was asleep. She would've been touched. I know I was.

But morning's aren't a good time for romantic introspection. They were a time for more practical matters, like brushing one's teeth and peeing. I would've liked to lay there forever—or at least until she woke up—but my bladder was suggesting otherwise. Besides, I had to get home and get changed. Big day today. Not only did I promise to help Angela with her daughter's party, but it was laundry day too. I hate laundry. I'd often thought that I could happily refuse to ever get married at all if it meant less laundry, but maybe it was time to rethink that now that I'm probably gay. After all, if you marry a chick you kind of expect her to share the housework. There ought to be some kind of perk to this homosexual nonsense.

In any case, it was time to get up. I tried to do it very slowly and gently, so I didn't wake her up. I'd say goodbye before I left, of course, but I was naked and I thought it would be better to get changed in private. Call me modest, but I didn't think my naked ass would be overly flattered by bending over to fetch my underwear in the cold gray light of a bleak Seattle morn.

Unfortunately, I wasn't gentle enough. I was watching her face and she stirred as soon as I tried to move her hand. Her eyes fluttered once and so did my heart. A slow smile spread over her lips as her sleepy eyes met mine and she wriggled closer to me under the covers, wrapping her arm around me tighter and hooking a leg around mine. Her thigh was smooth and very warm, and as it rubbed against me I felt a distinct arousal in my vagina.

Well. I've heard of morning wood, but really.

She smiled at me sleepily with a slow blink of her beautiful brown eyes and whispered, "Hey."

Oh god this chick's cute.

"Hey," I replied, my heart beginning to beat harder at the body contact under the covers. But the girl was obviously out of it, and she couldn't possibly know she was driving me crazy. So I edged away slightly and kept my voice low, so I wouldn't wake her up more. "You don't have to get up," I said, "I was just gonna slip out quietly."

She tightened her arm around me and pouted, halting my retreat. "But you just got up," she said. "Aren't you gonna stay for breakfast?"

"It's okay," I said. "I have that party to go to this morning, remember?"

She gave me another sleepy blink, and I swear she knew exactly how adorable that was. She snuggled a little closer and her breast brushed mine. "Oh," she said. "I was hoping we could shower together before you leave."

 _Thump_.

"Um," I said.

Ten minutes later we were in the shower together.

Oddly enough, I'd never had sex in the shower before. Well, not with a person. I was a little clueless on the logistics of shower-sex, but the pixie guided my hand quite literally. She took it and pressed it to her wet body, passing it over her breasts and hips before settling it between her thighs and holding it there as I probed her slippery folds with my fingers. Gazing into her flushed and panting face with her short black hair stamped wetly to her forehead and water dribbling from her chin.

The shower got steamed up very quickly, and it wasn't just the hot water. My life lately had involved several new experiences, but I had to admit there was nothing quite like making out with your girlfriend under a cascade of warm water with a bundle of hot soapy tits between you.

"Mmm," she moaned, breaking the kiss. "You're turn now, baby. Turn around."

I turned, and instantly her arms enclosed around me, her hands gliding up and down my wet body. I moaned as she cupped my breasts and massaged them. I had gathered my hair in a wet rope over my shoulder and she was kissing the back of my neck and feeling me up. I was going mad with horniness and dimly I realized that I was really beginning to enjoy being a lesbian. But then I pushed my hips against her pelvis to request penetration and remembered with a pang that girl's don't have a penis. It was a funny thing to forget, but it took me by surprise. Hell, even the surprise took me by surprise. I'd been quite disenchanted with the idea of cock lately, so why did I want one now?

I didn't know, but moments later it didn't matter. Her hand slipped lower and I felt two of her fingers slide inside me, making me inhale a breath full of steam. Out of curiosity, I closed my eyes and imagined it was a guy behind me. But it was difficult to ignore the wet press of her breasts into my back, and the mental image of a man did nothing but make me cringe and open my eyes again. I turned my head and looked over my shoulder, blinking water out of my eyes. The pixie smiled at me a beautiful smile and I clenched down on her fingers in response. She smirked and pushed them in deeper. I groaned, maintaining eye contact with my wet torso twisted around to face her, and she flickered her eyes over my lips and captured them in a kiss.

When I came I almost fell over.

And as if that wasn't an amazing way to start the morning, she made it even more amazing by making me breakfast. I tried to refuse, of course, but she insisted. She could be quite insistent, I was beginning to realize, and maybe a tad manipulative. She made me stay the night, stay the morning, and now she was making me breakfast. She was a woman who wielded her smiles and sighs with great skill. She had quite a bit of talent with her body, too.

She let me help, at least, and together we made strawberry pancakes. Or should I say, she schooled me in how to make strawberry pancakes. I always thought I was handy in the kitchen, but the pixie was an artisan. While the pancakes were cooking on the stove she sliced extra strawberries and shaped them like love hearts, popping one of them in her mouth and then one of them in mine, giggling, flirting, flipping the pancakes with a toss of the pan as if she was performing for television. I watched her with a swelling heart and heaved a sigh. How could a girl possibly be so perfect?

I sat at the counter and she served me a plate that looked like it belonged on the cover of a food magazine, a stack of pancakes three deep topped with honey, heart shaped strawberries, and an artistic dusting of powdered sugar. It almost looked too good to eat.

"Wow," I said. "They look great."

She giggled proudly and flapped a dish towel at the plate. "Try, try, try!"

I smiled and cut away a section and popped it in my mouth. I chewed, nodding. "Not bad," I said, playing it cool. But then the flavors filled my mouth and I said, "Fuck. How'd you get them so fucking fluffy?"

"I have a natural flair for cooking," she said with a modest smile. Then she opened the fridge and looked into it. "So," she said, "what would you like to drink? Juice? Coffee? Tea? Chocolate milk?"

I had already taken another bite and had to swallow quickly before I answered. "Um, juice is fine."

"Orange, apple, mango, grapefruit?"

I chuckled and leaned on the stool to peer around her into the fridge. "You keep that much juice in the house?"

She seemed slightly embarrassed. "Well, no," she said, "but the store's only at the end of the block. I could run down there if there's anything you wanted. I mean, I don't mind."

She actually seemed serious, but I chuckled and shook my head. Honestly, it struck me as a little weird. What kind of girl would happily run to the store to satisfy her lover's whim for juice? Good thing the chick was gay – no guy deserves a girl like that.

"Do you have orange?" I asked.

She nodded into the fridge. "I have orange."

"I'll take some orange."

"Orange it is," she giggled, reaching for the bottle. She bought it over with a tall glass and began pouring, but then stopped quickly. "Oh, it's low pulp," she said, as if that might be a problem. "Is that okay?"

The pulp content of my juice had never alarmed me, so I nodded. "Sure."

"Great," she said, and resumed pouring. "I hate pulp."

"Pulp does suck," I agreed.

She giggled and put the juice back in the fridge. The coffee machine was done by now, and she poured herself a cup while I mentally kicked myself – I should've just said coffee.

"So, um, tell me about this party you're going to," she said, after we started eating. "Why exactly do you need to be there?" She grinned. "You don't have any kids to drop off, do you?"

I chuckled at her joke, but I didn't answer for a second. I was distracted by how she drizzled a little extra honey on her pancakes. It struck me as rather reckless for a woman with such a slim figure and I realized she must have a great metabolism. I tried not to be envious, but really; a woman as trim as her ought to be subsisting on water and the leaves of a eucalyptus tree. On the other hand, I got to sleep with that figure so maybe I shouldn't complain.

"Uh, no," I said, answering her question even though it was a joke. "I'm just going to say happy birthday and help out a little. Her mom doesn't want to deal with twenty kids all by herself, and she doesn't have any sisters or anything."

"That's sweet of you," she said. Then she gave me a coy little smile. "I mean, I'm sure there's better ways you'd rather spend a Saturday, right?"

I nodded and snorted. "Yeah, like sleeping."

"Or hanging out with your new girlfriend," she hinted.

I chuckled on a mouthful of pancakes, amazed at my stupidity. I cleared my throat, blushed, and nodded. "That too," I said, and sipped my juice meekly.

She smiled and cut into her pancakes daintily, evidently deciding to forgive my gracelessness. Then an idea seemed to hit her and she lit up. "Hey, I got a great idea! Why don't I come with you?"

"Where?" I asked, genuinely clueless.

She rolled her eyes elaborately. "To the party, silly."

I laughed, luckily without any pancake in my mouth. "You wanna go to a kid's party?" I said, and laughed again. "What for? They're not gonna let you play pin the tail on the donkey."

She seemed slightly wounded that I didn't jump at the opportunity to bring her along, and I felt a little bad. But it wasn't my fault. It's not that I didn't want to spend time with her, I did. In fact, at this point in my life, I think I could safely say there was literally nothing in the world I would rather do than spent time with her.

But really – a kid's party? I didn't want to subject her to that.

Her smile had only flickered and she recovered into a joke. "No," she said, "but there'll be cake, won't there?"

I chuckled, I couldn't resist. "Angela sucks at baking and she never buys one," I told her. "Her cake is terrible. Seriously, she uses like a pinch of sugar and a pound of butter. It's not worth going to a party for, trust me."

Her smiled slipped away.

Okay, now I really fucked up.

I felt like a total prick. Honestly, I was only trying to make fun of my best friend's baking ability, I didn't mean to push the pixie away. But fuck, if the pixie wants to go to a kid's party, then that's where I'm going to take her.

"But you can come if you want," I said, and I was encouraged at how her smile reappeared. "I just thought you'd be bored, that's all. I mean, I know I definitely don't want to go."

"Well, maybe it'll be more fun with me there," she suggested.

That did kind of make sense. If anything could drown out the rabid screeching of a roomful of pre-pubescent young girls, I'm sure it was the presence of the pixie.

"Well, okay," I said. "If you really want to."

She smiled happily. "Great," she said, and lifted a forkful of pancake. "Besides, I'd love to meet this friend of yours," she went on. "Was she surprised when you told her your dating a girl?"

Ah. Angela.

"Kind of," I said, and I frowned as I remembered Angela's exact reaction.

Truthfully, she still hadn't accepted it. She still thought it was just a phase, that pretty soon I was going to "wake up" and fall madly in love with her precious Mr Masen. To be honest, she had some fair points. Not about her boss, but about the possibility of a phase. Even now, it seemed a bit of a stretch to just go gay overnight the way I did. Who's to say I won't simply go straight again once the pixie's out of my system? But then again, it's not like I was particularly straight to begin with. Men had never—

Oh fuck it, I'm so sick of thinking about it.

The pixie had paused to munch a mouthful of pancakes and then she swallowed. She seemed confused that Angela had been surprised. "Really?" she said. "Usually bestfriends figure it out before you do. When I first came out, my friends were like: 'It's about time!'"

She giggled, and I laughed too. But deep in my stomach there was a growing nervousness, because I was beginning to remember how Angela had joked about I better not bring my girlfriend.

"So, it's okay if I go?" she asked.

I nodded a little distractedly. "Sure."

I just hoped Angela really had been joking.

—

Chapter 26:

—

The house Angela shared with her husband, three kids, two dogs, two cats, one car and a minivan was a nice little place on Atlantic Avenue, a delightful brickbuilt dwelling in sunny suburbia with flowerbushes in the front yard and a doorbell that chimed the notes of Westminster.

I had just pushed the button and me and the pixie were standing on the patio, waiting. She seemed excited, although I honestly had no idea why. I could understand that she'd want to meet my friends and get involved in my life, but weren't there less tedious ways to do that than accompanying me to the birthday party of my best friend's nine year old daughter so that I could video the cake and pretend I didn't wish I was somewhere else? I suppose it was sweet. Having the pixie nearby would certainly be a welcome distraction.

That is, if Angela even let me and my _girl_ friend into the house.

Fortunately, it wasn't Angela who answered the door, it was her daughter Lily. It was a bit dangerous to let a nine year old answer the door, but the girl wasn't likely to get jumped by me or any of the mothers arriving to drop off their kids. The girl opened the door and stood there sullenly in a tiara and a heavy metal t-shirt. Something told me she didn't dig the princess theme Angela had planned for her.

"Hi, sweetie, happy birthday," I cooed to her in a voice that really didn't feel natural. "Wow, look at you. Are you a princess?"

She was holding the door open and she wasn't impressed with my aunty routine. "Well, duh," she said. "I have to, it's a princess _theme_."

Lily was very mature for her age. In a nine year old, this meant she acted like an obnoxious teenager all the time.

I didn't have any reply, and despite my status as pseudo-aunt I didn't think I was allowed to slap her for being a snot. Even the pixie seemed taken aback. Lily leveled a suspicious look at her and Alice smiled at me for an introduction.

"Oh, this is Alice," I said, letting my voice go back to normal. "She's, um…"

I snapped my fingers, as if trying to remember. But thankfully I was saved from anything lame or lying by the appearance of Angela. She saw me from down the hall and came toward the door, happy to see me. She obviously hadn't seen the pixie just yet.

"Hey, Bella, thanks for getting here early," she said, and touched the back of Lily's hair. "Lily, honey, did you give Aunty Bella a hug and thank her for—?"

She looked up and saw Alice. She had never seen her before, yet she seemed to realize instantly who she was. Impressive, considering her gaydar had never picked up on me all these years.

"Oh," she said. "Who—?"

She gave me an inquiring look, perhaps hoping the pixie was a long lost sister I'd recently been reunited with. I hated to disappoint her, but part of this whole ordeal was asserting the woman as my girlfriend.

"This is Alice," I said. "Remember I told you about her?"

Angela pretended to be unruffled, but you could tell this didn't make her day. "Oh, right," she said. "She's the, um. Person. That you…"

She trailed off. Obviously, she couldn't think of a tactful way of saying 'the person whose pussy you're eating.' Not in front of her daughter, at least.

Luckily, the pixie wasn't offended. She smiled her charming smile, and really; if that smile wasn't worth going gay for, nothing is.

"Hi, you must be Angela," she said. "It's nice to meet you. Hope you don't mind me being here, but Bella mentioned she was coming over to help out and I thought—"

"Mom, can I go play with my toys?" Lily butted in.

Angela had been listening to Alice with a bit of a cool air, and now she snapped out of it and turned to Lily. "Sure, honey," she said, "but your friends will be here soon, so don't get too busy."

Lily stalked off down the hall without responding or apologizing for interrupting. A nice child.

Me and Alice stood there. Angela watched her daughter go, as if to delay our entry for an extra few seconds, barring the doorway with her body. The pixie glanced at me, a glint in her eyes as if she kind of enjoyed Angela's discomfort. Angela sighed and finally forced a polite smile on her face.

"Well, come inside," she said, and held open the door.

The pixie glanced at me again, smiled at Angela, and we went inside.

Within a few minutes of our arrival there was a parade of mothers pulling up outside in vans and SUVs and other assorted mommy-mobiles, dropping off their kids and racing away again, hardly even pausing to consider Angela's token offer of coffee. One or two of them did stay for a few moments, but only a few moments. Angela introduced Alice and I as friends of hers, and while I was sure the pixie was flattered to be included within such a select circle, I was even more sure that she would've preferred to be introduced as Bella and her girlfriend Alice.

Soon the party was in full swing. My duties as best friend and pretend aunt were mostly to keep Angela company, but I helped out however I could, arranging platters of candy and snackfood while mentally congratulating the little twerps for being too young to get pimples. I snuck a milk dud or two, but any more and I'd have full blown acne in the morning. Potato chips were way too high in calories to even think about, but I guess nine year olds don't need to watch their figures just yet.

I set the platters out and soon the kids were running around and shrieking with giggles, all hopped up and candy and carbohydrates. I'm sure Angela would've preferred to serve celery and carrot sticks, but Lily might literally kill her in her sleep if she did.

Alice tried to help out as well, but she was shy about offering, and there wasn't much to do aside from endure both the boredom and Angela's snubs. She hovered around me almost constantly, and I could tell she was kind of disappointed at how Angela took absolutely no interest in her or our relationship. I was, too, kind of. Maybe now wasn't exactly the time, but would it have killed her to mention how cute we look together? Or to at least pretend to be excited about finally meeting my girlfriend? My _first_ girlfriend? It was quite shitty of her, really. It had been over a week since we'd spoken, and she still hadn't asked how my date went. Not a text, not a call, nothing. It had been the most magical, amazing, perfect date I ever could've imagined – and she just didn't care because it was with a girl.

Well, fuck it. Doesn't matter. I wasn't here for fun, anyway, and it's not like I required Angela's approval. It was ironic, in a way. I'd always hated it when Angela interrogated me about boyfriends, like her precious Mr Masen. I never saw the appeal in recapping a date with little lies and embellishments. Now I found myself actually upset not to have a chance to brag about my date. Hmm. Further proof that guys had never been what my subconscious wanted, I guess.

In any case, soon I could go home. I didn't know what the pixie had planned for the rest of the day, but I could totally picture us having sex tonight. I was literally daydreaming about it as I sponged up a Kool-Aid stain in the carpet. I smiled to myself at how weird it was. This morning I had soapy sex in the shower with another woman and now I was at a children's birthday party. Life can be strange sometimes.

The party was past the midway point when we had our first crisis. One of the younger girls—a friend of the younger sister—had burst into tears. Her tummy hurt from too much candy. Poor thing. Angela and I did our best to soothe her, but soon she began crying that she wanted her mommy and wanted to go home.

Angela retreated to the kitchen to call the mother in question, leaving me to handle the child with Alice hovering anxiously nearby. I was mostly annoyed by the crying, but the girl's distress really seemed to upset the pixie, and once Angela was gone she came forward, bobbed down, and began cooing to the girl that her mom will be here soon and everything will be alright. Pretty soon the girl stopped crying. I was impressed. If it was up to me I would've taken a harder approach, but I didn't think her mother would appreciate me disciplining her daughter with the flat side of a frying pan.

Soon the mother arrived and the sick child was carted off. Thankfully, we hadn't had to call an ambulance.

Afterwards, the pixie and I found ourselves taking much needed refreshments in the kitchen. I had a glass of water and the pixie cradled a cup of tea. She must've bonded somewhat with the sooky-girl, because she seemed to miss her. Two girls ran through the kitchen and out the screendoor and the pixie smiled. She turned to me and chuckled once.

"I love kids," she said. "I can't wait till I have them someday."

I nodded. Stereotype was a little sketchy on this subject. You could say lesbians are too butch for childbearing, but then you watch _The L Word_ and they seem obsessed with it. Either way, I was interested to hear the pixie's thoughts on the topic.

"How, though?" I inquired. "I mean, what method?"

She shrugged and sipped her tea. "I'm not sure," she said. "It would depend on my partner, I guess. What about you, ever pictured yourself with kids?"

"Sure," I said, although that was before I had readjusted my vision of the future to include life with a chick. But strangely, the idea of being a lesbian parent didn't really turn me off. Some shallow part of me even found the idea cute. Two mommies – what a novel idea.

She nodded, and she had opened her mouth to speak when a new guest arrived. It wasn't a kid, although he often acted like one.

"Emmett," I said, surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?"

Emmett was Angela's brother, a big goofy auto-mechanic who actually loved his sister. Angela hadn't mentioned he'd be coming by, but here he was. He had let himself in through the front and he came directly into the kitchen, grinning and with a massive gift tucked under a massive arm. I knew him pretty well from my friendship with Angela, so I couldn't really knee him in the crotch when he gave me a hug.

"Yo, Bells," he said, patting my back roughly. "Nice to see you, been a long time. Where's Ange? I told her I'd come by and—"

Lily must've seen him through the window, because she came barreling through the screendoor, excited and out of breath. "Uncle Emmett!" she cried, and threw herself at him in a hug.

I frowned a little. How come I never get that kind of reaction? What's he got that I don't? Whatever, I hate kids.

Emmett chuckled and made a show of staggering back under the impact of Lily's tackle. "Whoa, what are you a princess or a bull? You're getting strong lately – and tall, jeez! You're gonna be as tall as me soon!"

Lilly giggled, for once acting like a nine year old. It was nice she was happy, but it struck me as hollow flattery. Emmett was six and a half feet tall and broad as an ox – he was obviously lying. Still, she soaked it up as a compliment. I rolled my eyes, but the pixie was smiling, enjoying the scene.

"You having a happy birthday?" Emmett said, ruffling the girl's hair. She was wearing a zircon tiara in honor of the princess theme, and it came askew. She took it off quickly—perhaps embarrassed to be seen in it by her favorite uncle—and put it on the counter before straightening her hair.

"Mmhm," she said to his question. "Kate had to go home early because she got sick and Mindy won't stop being stupid but yeah it's really cool."

He nodded, clearly not listening but good at pretending. "Awesome," he said, and took the gift from behind his back. "Hey, look, I got you something."

She took it and lit up. "Oh my god, what is it?"

"Open it," he grinned, "you'll love it."

Lily tore at the paper. It was actually a pretty huge gift, and oddly shaped, kind of like an extra-long tennis racket, or a—

"Omigaaaawd!"

—an electric guitar.

Jesus. I tried not to be jealous at how much more awesome his gift was than mine, but really; why not get her a fucking pony while you're at it?

Even the pixie was delighted. She clapped her hands and grinned with her eyes sparkling. It must be nice to be able to share the excitement of others. I'd never really gotten the hang of that.

"You like it?" he grinned. "You're mom said you had your eye on that one for a while. Next time I come over I want to hear you play something, okay?"

Lily was mesmerized. The guitar was a lacquered black stratocaster and she was holding it horizontally in both hands. I was surprised she could even lift it. It was almost taller than she was.

"Omigawd, thank you so much, Uncle Emmett," she said in a breathless rush.

He ruffled her hair again. "Don't mention it, kiddo."

She didn't even pause to straighten her hair, she just adjusted her grip on her new guitar and gave him a quick hug. "Omigawd, I'm gonna go show all my friends," she babbled, and then ran out the screendoor, clumsily hugging the guitar to her body.

Emmett sighed, pleased with himself. He grabbed a bowl of pretzels off the counter and began shoveling them into his mouth three at a time.

"So," he said. "Who's this?"

My heart sank.

He was asking about Alice.

Emmett was generally a good guy, but he was still a guy and aren't guys creeps about this kind of thing? I really didn't want him to know I was dating a girl. Angela probably hadn't even told him I was going through some changes recently. At least I hoped she didn't.

Alice was smiling and waiting for an introduction. She obviously had a good first impression of him, but she didn't know him like I did. It would've been nice if she could just say her name and shake his hand, leaving her status ambiguous, but she seemed to be testing whether or not I'd mention she was my girlfriend. I was a bit flustered, but I had to do something.

"Oh, this is Alice," I said. "She's…um…"

I faltered. The pixie's smile dimmed slightly. Emmett munched another handful of pretzels.

"She's what?" he prodded.

"I'm Bella's girlfriend," Alice said, and offered her hand. "My name's Alice."

A strange look passed over Emmett's face, the goofiness slipping away into shock. My heart felt like it had sunk to my shoes. I was leaning a hip on the counter and I could feel the blood rushing to my face.

"Girlfriend?" Emmett repeated. "Holy shit."

He chuckled goofily, the seriousness passing as quickly as it came. He wiped his hand on his pants and shook the pixie's hand. "Wow, nice to meet you," he said, pumping her hand vigorously. "Now, when you say girlfriend, you mean _girl_ friend? Cuz that's a pretty huge shock to me, I mean I never knew Bella was even into that."

He was still shaking her hand. My face darkened. He better let the fuck go right now or I swear to god I'm gonna—

He let go and turned his grin to me. "Hey, how come you never told me about this? You go gay, you don't say anything? What am I your cousin? I thought you're my little sis, wassup?"

He grabbed me and put me in a brotherly headlock. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood. I had been outed against my will for the very first time, and I was so humiliated that my brain was unable to comprehend that it was really no big deal. So I squirmed out from under his arm and pushed him away.

"I'm not gay," I spat. "I'm just…"

Fuck.

The pixie had been giggling at Emmett's roughhousing. She wasn't giggling anymore.

"Not gay?" Emmett said, not noticing anything weird. "So, what, that makes you bi? Hey, that's cool. Maybe I still got a chance, huh?"

He elbowed me in the ribs. I forced a chuckle.

"It's not that," I said, trying to explain. "It's just, this is all very new, and I'm not sure yet, and…"

"Hey, that's cool," Emmett said, backing off – toward the pretzel bowl. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. Yo, want a pretzel?"

Emmett thrust the bowl at Alice. Alice smiled and took one.

"So, what about you, what's your story?" he asked. "You're a lesbian?"

Alice glanced at me, as if she was about to show me how it's done, and said:

"Yep – one hundred percent. And proud, too."

Well. I thought she might've overdid it a little, but I got the point.

Emmett grinned. "Hey, wow, that's cool. I never met one as hot as you. I've seen some of them at the gym, but they're all kind of bulky. I'm a huge fan, by the way. You girl's rock. This is so cool, to meet one as hot as you. I almost feel like getting your autograph or something."

I was mildly disgusted, but the pixie giggled.

"Thanks," she said.

"Hey, let me ask you something," Emmett said. "Is it true that all good looking lesbians secretly want a man? Or is that just something guys fantasize about?"

I shook my head, my stomach turning. The saddest thing was that he seemed to be serious. The pixie's face went bright red, but she was saved from shattering his dreams by the appearance of Angela. She looked annoyed and ready to bark orders, but then she saw Emmett and lit up, much like her daughter had.

"Emmett, you made it," she said, wrapping him into a hug. "It's so great to see you, it's been ages."

"Yeah, I just saw Lily," he said. "She's getting big, she's huge!"

"She _adores_ her gift," Angela told him, "you made her day."

"Hey, what can I say?" he grinned, and shot a smirk at Alice. "I know what the ladies like."

He was obviously playing, so I refrained from grabbing a kitchen knife and castrating him and shoving it down his throat. Alice chuckled and Angela laughed. I sat on my stool sullenly, still blushing. Not only was he hitting on my girl, but didn't anyone realize the man was talking about his niece? Am I the only one who found that creepy?

"Anyway, I gotta run," he said, and kissed Angela on the cheek. "Catch you later."

"Okay," Angela said, and kissed him back. "Thanks for dropping by."

"My pleasure, and uh…" He turned to Alice, hitched up his pants, and offered his hand with a crooked smile. "…it was nice to meetcha. Alice, right?"

He was still playing, obviously, so I said:

"Don't fucking touch her."

Silence descended over the kitchen. Everyone in the room looked at me. The only sound was the sound of children playing and the dancemix in the background.

"Bella," Angela said. "Don't swear in my house."

I didn't apologize, I just sat there gloomily with my face burning. Alice grinned happily, and at least that was some consolation – maybe my protective outburst made up a little for how I fucked up with the introduction. Emmett smirked and tossed his dumb-looking chin at me.

"Nice to see ya, Bells," he said, and then he swatted Angela's shoulder. "Save me some cake, sis. A real big piece!"

He was already backing down the corridor and he had to shout the last part out. Angela laughed, but the real joke was how terrible her cakes are.

The cake in question was sitting on the opposite counter, covered with wrap and decorated with princess stickers on aluminum foil. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, a rainbow, a unicorn, a castle. Just plain cake with pink icing made from sugar, butter, and food coloring. It looked decidedly homemade, but I guess it's the thought that counts.

"Well," Angela said, putting her hands on her hips with a weary sigh. "I guess it's time to get the cake ready. I can't wait till the kids outgrow birthday parties."

"Lily doesn't seem too thrilled at being a princess," I remarked.

Angela snorted and started removing the wrap from the cake. "I know," she said. "She wanted a heavy metal party, but I hate her listening to that music."

Angela had mostly been ignoring Alice, but Alice seemed quite determined about getting to know my friends. She saw a spot to jump in, and she did.

"I think you've done an amazing job," she said. "I would've loved to have parties like this when I was her age. And I can't wait to try the cake, Bella says you're an amazing baker."

I cringed – I didn't actually say that. I said Angela sucks as a baker, and even worse, I often told Angela to her face that she sucks as a baker. "Well, I didn't say amazing," I corrected her, "I only said—"

"Bella hates my cakes," Angela interrupted with a smile. She seemed mildly charmed that Alice had lied for the sake of a compliment. "She doesn't understand how hard it is to bake a cake when one kid is allergic to wheat and another to eggs."

"Yeah," I smirked. "Blame the kids."

Angela smiled and shook her head. She glanced at the pixie and the compliment seemed to have warmed her enough to where she could actually speak to her.

"So, Alice," she said. "How long have you been seeing Bella? Bella's hardly mentioned you at all."

Or maybe not.

The pixie glanced at me, not too thrilled that I hadn't been talking about her. I would've loved to explain that the reason I hadn't been talking about her was because my so-called best friend had been avoiding me since I started dating her. Jeez. That was a real low-blow from Angela.

"It's just a couple weeks," the pixie told her.

Angela nodded. "So I guess it's nothing serious, just a casual kind of thing?"

My stomach dropped. I know Angela could never really understand how I felt about Alice, but did she have to be such a passive-aggressive bitch?

The pixie looked at me, unsure. "Well…"

"It's more serious than any guy I've ever dated," I interrupted, glaring at my so called best friend. "And it would be nice if you could at least try to understand that."

Angela was sticking candles in the cake and she laughed at my proclamation. "Yeah right," she said. "You must've forgot about some of the guys you dated. I remember when Jake broke up with you in college, you got drunk and fell asleep outside his dorm and I had to drag you home. You were a mess for months after he dumped you."

I felt a wriggle of panic in my stomach. The pixie was not happy to hear that, and the worst thing? It was kind of true.

"That doesn't mean it was serious," I said, "it just means I was stupid."

Angela smiled at Alice. "You should've seen her back in the day," she said, as if it was harmless gossip. "Total club rat. She never met a guy she didn't make out with. You never would've thought she'd date a girl. Never in a million years."

Alice chuckled awkwardly, pretending it didn't bother her. But I knew how paranoid she was about girls who only thought they were gay, and frankly, this was not helping my case.

"She's just trying to embarrass me," I said, hoping I could brush it off.

But no.

"If I wanted to embarrass you," Angela went on, "I'd say that Mr Masen was asking about you the other day."

Oh god.

"Who?" Alice asked.

I shook my head. "Nobody."

Angela abandoned the cake and turned to Alice. She was smiling as if we'd finally hit a topic we could all enjoy. "My boss, at the publishing house," she said. "Bella's boss, too. They were supposed to have dinner last night."

"Business dinner," I butted in. "It was business."

Angela smirked. "So nothing happened?"

I couldn't believe she would ask that in front of Alice. "Of course not," I said, a dull anger building in my stomach.

"Too bad," Angela said. "He asked me on Thursday if you were seeing anyone. I didn't know what was going on with you, so I just said I wasn't sure. I think he still likes you."

The pixie's face had hardened. She was beginning to realize that Angela had no interest in being her friend. "Isn't that a little inappropriate of him?" she asked pointedly.

"Not really," Angela said. "They used to date."

"We didn't date," I said quickly.

"It was right after she met you," Angela went on, ignoring me. "They met in my office and just hit it off. He took her to lunch and then they went to that Halloween party together. She got drunk and slept with him."

"Angela!" I gasped.

She had said it with a giggle, as if we were just a bunch of girls sharing gossip. Worse, she didn't even seem to realize what she was doing wrong. Did she honestly have no idea what a homophobic whore she was being right now?

"What?" she said innocently. "I was just—"

"Moooom!" Lily called from outside. "I can't find my tiara!"

Angela wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "Oh, I better—"

She was already on her way out. The tiara was laying on the counter, where the girl had left it. Alice had picked it up and she went to call Angela back, but I glared and shook my head. She stopped, and Angela quickly hurried outside calling out for Lily to calm down.

"Fuck her," I said. "Let her search for the fucking tiara."

It was a petty revenge, but I was very upset. To my surprise, there were even tears speckling my eyes. Angela's approval wasn't important to me, it really wasn't. But I couldn't believe she had tried to sabotage my relationship like that. I just couldn't believe it.

The pixie seemed less upset than me. Maybe she was used to it, or maybe she felt sorry for me. She toyed with the tiara in her hands and gave me a sad smile. "She's not too happy that you're dating me, is she?"

"No," I said. "Sorry, I should've warned you about her. I didn't think she'd be this bad. I don't know what her problem is. I thought she could at least keep her mouth shut."

The pixie nodded. She looked out the screendoor and back to me.

"Is it true, though?" she asked.

"Is what true?"

"That last night you were with an ex-boyfriend and you didn't tell me?"

My stomach lurched. "I wouldn't call him an ex," I said. "I barely knew him."

"You knew him enough to sleep with him," she pointed out gently.

"It was our first date," I said, "I didn't even—"

Fuck.

I managed to stop myself, but it was just a little too late. I blushed and looked down. I was afraid the pixie was going to be mad at me, but when I looked up again, she was smiling. It was like she realized how messed up and confusing this was for me, and she felt sorry for me in an amused way.

"First date, huh?" she said. "Wow. You slept with me on our first date, too. You're not the kind of girl to take it slow, are you?"

But even if she wasn't pissed at me, I was still pissed at myself. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm just a slut," I muttered, and then I snatched the tiara out of her hand. "Gimme that."

She giggled and stood still while I slipped the tiara onto her temple, threading it into her soft black hair. She was smiling, and butterflies fluttered up in my stomach as I gazed at her beautiful face, even more beautiful with the glittering crown perched in her raven locks.

"You're more of a princess than that little brat, anyway," I said.

She smiled and used a hand to adjust the tiara. "Thanks."

I looked at her for a bit more before dropping my eyes and wondering how to explain. Then I lifted my eyes to hers and decided to just be honest.

"Listen," I said. "I dated him just after I met you because I was confused by how you made me feel. But I was never attracted to him. I wasn't attracted to him then, and I'm definitely not attracted to him now. Ever since we met, I haven't been able to think about anyone but you."

She gazed into my eyes. "Really?"

"Really," I said. Her lips widened into a smile, and I wasted no time in kissing them.

My eyes were closed, butterflies dancing in my tummy. Moments like this, it was hard to believe I was ever confused at all. I had cupped the nape of her neck and she had her arms around me. I moaned and deepened the kiss. I could feel the soft skin of her neck under my hand, and I realized that it was time to stop with all the confusion and the maybes. Time to decide who I am. Time to just admit it and get used to it. The pixie deserved better, she deserved—

"Is that my tiara?"

Fuuuuuck.

I broke apart from the pixie as if I'd been caught by a highschool teacher and wiped my mouth furiously. Little nine year old Lily was standing there with a skeptical look on her face, patiently waiting for the return of her tiara. The pixie was embarrassed as well, but she didn't go pale or hyperventilate like I did, she just bit her lip coyly and smiled.

"Fuck," I said. "Um…"

The naughty word made the girl smirk. "You sweared. I'm gonna tell mom."

I quickly took the tiara off the pixie and handed it to Lily.

"Um, here you go, sweetie, sorry about that," I said. "But listen, don't tell mommy, okay? She'd get upset."

"Don't tell her you sweared?"

For some reason, I found it hard to believe that the girl wasn't just a little disturbed at stumbling upon two grown women making out. Maybe she didn't understand that kissing girls on the mouth wasn't precisely normal.

"Um, sure," I said. "But don't tell her you saw me kissing my friend, either. She might not understand."

I thought this was the easiest way to explain it, so that the girl would think it was nothing and just forget about it. But the word friend made her grin and she gave me an obnoxious snort.

" _Friend_?" she said. "Yeah, right. I've seen _Glee_ , I know what a gay person is."

Then she turned with her tiara and went back outside.

I was shocked. I had bent down slightly to speak with her, and I was still bent down. There was no sound in the kitchen but the music and the children outside. Slowly I rose up and looked at the pixie. She was covering her mouth with her hand and her eyes were dancing. A giggle escaped her and then she just burst out laughing.

—

Chapter 27:

—

For the next month and a bit, Alice and I continued to date and spent time with each other. Our relationship had slowed down a little after the incident at Angela's place, and Alice made no more requests to meet my friends. Not only was she less than enchanted with Angela, but she had realized from how I kept fumbling over her introduction that it was going to take a little more time before I was comfortable.

So we slowed things down, and I had to admit I was grateful. At the rate we were going, I would've been introducing her to my mother by the end of the week and bearing her children by Monday. I would've been cool with her somehow impregnating me, but as far as my mother was concerned, I planned to remained closeted as long as humanly possible. Maybe I'll wait till she's on her death bed. They say people in comas can still hear what you're saying.

But that's not to say we made no progress at all. Every day I could feel a bit of the pressure lifting, and we always had fun together. Even in public sometimes. We went to the movies, we went out to eat, we worked out at the gym. At first the pixie was very sparing with the public affection, but she became bolder as I became more comfortable. We held hands at a shoe store. She kissed me at the gym. I felt a twinge of discomfort as her lips touched mine, but to my surprise, no one heckled or stared at us. Hardly anyone seemed to notice, but then again, that place was full of gay people. Some days it was like a gay bar with weight machines.

Over those few weeks I felt a lot like a goldfish being eased into a new tank. It was only a matter of time till she tipped me out into my new habitat, but for now I was happy to float in the pet shop bag and take in the scenery.

And sex. Plenty of sex. I hate to say it was my favorite part of the relationship, but I couldn't deny it. Well, I could deny it out loud of course, but not in my heart. It was actually a little disconcerting how badly I seemed to need it when I was with her. It would be on my mind all through dinner and all through the movie and by the time we got back to my place or hers I'd be jittery like a crack addict – pun intended. I rationalized that it was natural. After an entire lifetime of wandering through a carnal desert I had finally stumbled upon the sweet oasis of Alice. And if that prose seemed a little purple, it's only because it didn't seem ladylike to admit what a repressed lesbian slut I was.

In any case, the sex did a lot to help me get comfortable with the idea of being gay. By the end of the month I had pretty much abandoned any possibility of a phase or realizing I might in fact be bi. To be absolutely honest, I was quite happy to finally have some closure on the issue. The pixie had warned me that sometimes a phase can last for years, but as I lay in bed at night with her warm weight nestled against mine, I honestly couldn't imagine any way I'd rather be.

In private, at least. In public, it was gonna take a little more time.

Unfortunately, however, I seemed to be running out of time. Alice had been hinting that she'd like me to meet her friends sometime and maybe hang out at places like gay bars. I knew it was inevitable that eventually I'd have to embrace a gay lifestyle and march in parades and join a rugby team, but like Angela, I seemed to be a tad prejudiced on the subject. I mean, just because the pixie is a good person, doesn't mean all gay people are. They could be freaks.

It was weird because I knew plenty of lesbians in college, and I was good friends with some of them. Funny how going gay myself had suddenly turned me into a homophobe. Maybe I'm just a chicken shit.

But for now she was only hinting. She was a patient pixie and it's not like we spent the entire month in seclusion. Jess was constantly hovering around like a bug whenever we were at my apartment, mooching food and watching my TV—which was seven inches bigger than hers. She was a friend of both of ours and pretty soon Alice and I were comfortable being a couple in front of her, holding hands, cuddling, chaste kisses. It was good practice, I guess, but somehow I didn't think it would help when I had to bring a date to my ninety year old grandmother's birthday party later this year.

In any case, Jess liked hanging out with us, and I didn't think I had enough flyspray under the sink to get rid of her. So we put up with her as best we could.

It was easy most nights, but one night I went out for Chinese and came back to find Jess watching _The Bachelor_ in my apartment. Not only was _The Bachelor_ a blemish on my TV screen, but she appeared to be sitting awful close to Alice. My girlfriend was scrunched up against the armrest of the sofa with her legs tucked under her and she gave me a sympathetic smile as I came in, which meant I wasn't allowed to grab Jess by the scruff of her neck and toss her out into the hallway.

Jess greeted me with her usual gusto, spied the bag of Chinese I was carrying, and asked what's for dinner. I opened my mouth for a caustic reply, only to get shushed because _The Bachelor_ was coming back from commercial. She told me to get some forks and sit down, eyes glued to the screen, flapping me away with a hand. I went and got some plates and forks, my rage just barely contained. To make it worse, I had planned for tonight to be romantic. No movie, no TV. There were even unlit candles on the coffeetable. Just me and Alice and a nice dinner and into bed as early as possible.

But I guess it was no big deal. Like a stray cat, Jess would fuck off again as soon as she was fed, and Alice and I could still enjoy a long night of sex.

So I served the food like a waitress in my own home and told Jess to shove the fuck over so I could sit next to my girlfriend. But then Jess started to complain that she wanted to sit next to Alice. I told her that Alice was my girlfriend and I was the one who gets to sit next to her. To which Jess replied that this isn't middle school and I should stop being so childish, and anyway, she was friends with Alice way before me. I was close to flipping the coffeetable and spazing out when Alice intervened. She shooed Jess over a little and plonked herself in the middle of the couch. Now we could both sit next to her. I wasn't happy that Jess got what she wanted, but I sat down without a fuss.

Then I looked at the TV and realized we were watching _The Bachelor._

Jesus. I love a good Lo Mein, but my appetite began to fail after only about twenty seconds. My will to live wasn't doing so great either. It's funny how crushing boredom can often feel like chronic depression. I honestly didn't understand what people saw in shows like this. Reality TV? Please. I'd rather perform brain surgery on myself than watch this inane garbage about these inane people and their inane lives. I mean, it was just so… _inane_.

Of course, Jess absolutely loved it. I suppose she thought there was something romantic about the idea of a bunch of women bickering and acting like bitches over the opportunity to be engaged to a wealthy and handsome bachelor—and then break up almost immediately after the season finale. Personally, I felt the whole concept was anti-feminist and propagative of the notion that a woman's worth is relative to the man she lands. Not to mention it was also extremely fucking boring.

But we sat through the entire episode with Jess babbling nonstop about everything that had happened so far in the season. I tried to hint that we didn't give a fuck by telling her to her face that we didn't give a fuck, but she seemed to enjoy the recap.

Finally it was over and I began to stack the plates. Jess was rather moved by what she had seen and she shook her head with a melancholy air as she rose from the couch.

"Jeez," she said. "I can't believe Sarah was eliminated. They were so perfect for each other. How could he just throw her away like that? Did you see how she was crying?"

I rose with the plates and gave her a dry look. "Jess, it's scripted bullshit," I said. "They've got acting coaches. None of that shit's real."

Jess obviously didn't believe me. "You just don't have any sense of romance, do you?"

This struck me as unfair, and I waved a hand at the unlit candles on the coffeetable. "Do you not see the candles?" I demanded. "Did you get an invitation in the mail? You're the one that crashed my romantic dinner for _two_ so that you could force us all to watch a dozen dumb sluts swoon over some jackass with a shitty haircut."

It came out a bit harsher than I may have intended. Jess put her hands on her hips and pouted.

"Wow," she said. "Someone's in a bitchy mood."

Alice giggled and rose from the couch. She snaked her arms around my waist and smiled at Jess. "You'll have to forgive her," she said. "Usually we'd be having sex by now. It's past baby's bedtime, isn't it baby?"

The cuteness in her voice did quell my rage a little. I smiled at her, and she kissed me. I was still holding the plates, so I couldn't put my arms around her, but it was a lovely kiss. Her hand had cupped my neck and—

"It's so hot when you guys do that."

My rage flared up again and I glared at Jess. Alice cleared her throat and disengaged herself from my waist. Jess grinned innocently.

"What?"

I exhaled through my nose. "Shouldn't you be going home by now, Jess?"

Jess looked crushed. "Already?"

"Well, me and Alice are about to have sex, and you're sure as fuck not joining in."

Jess still seemed reluctant. "Aww, come on," she said, "let's watch a movie or something. Please? Don't make me go home and call my boyfriend. He's boring and he doesn't watch _The Bachelor_ with me. How come guys never treat me right? It's not fair. I swear, if it doesn't work out with this one I'm done with men. Not in a gay way, but you know."

I had opened my mouth to let her know how few fucks I gave, but Alice went all sympathetic.

"What's wrong," she said, "you don't like him anymore? You only just met."

I rolled my eyes, hoping this wouldn't turn into a drama. Jess sighed and shrugged, snapping open a fortune cookie she'd saved.

"Yeah, I don't know," she said. "It's probably too soon after Mike. I'm not ready yet, but I hate being single. Don't you hate being single?"

"I loved it," I said casually.

Of course, completely stupid thing to say.

Both women looked at me with expressions that pitied my intelligence. I realized that I had admitted to being happy before I met Alice, which is not what a woman wants to hear. I knew full well that women prefer to believe their partner's life was miserable and incomplete before their inclusion in it. That was actually quite true in this case, so I thought I better try and explain myself.

"Before I met you, I mean," I added quickly to Alice. "I mean, you know. Because of guys. I didn't like guys, so single was better. But now," I said, taking her hand and recovering with a look into her eyes. "I never want to be single again."

Alice smiled and put her arms back around my waist.

"Nice save, baby," she said, and kissed me again.

I was still holding the plates, but I used one hand to cup her neck. I deepened the kiss, tasting the wine on her tongue. I'd never get tired of her kisses. It was true what I said. I never wanted to be single again. Alice really had completed me. I had never known what was missing, but I had found it when I found her. She was my—

Jess cleared her throat loudly. Alice and I broke apart sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, I'll leave you two alone," Jess said, heading toward the front door. She opened it and turned back with a grin. "Unless you changed your mind about me joining in? I mean it's no big deal, really, I mean we're all friends, right?"

"Jess," I said warningly.

"Okay, I'm going, jeez. Can I come over next week? I don't wanna watch _Idol_ alone."

I rolled my eyes, but Alice liked _Idol_ , and I didn't totally hate it, so I said, "Fine."

"Woot woot!" Jess cheered. "Can we have pizza?"

"Fuck off, Jess," I told her, and she giggled and fucked off.

I heaved a sigh as soon as the door was closed. I looked at Alice, but there weren't any words. I shook my head and took the dishes into the sink.

"Sorry about that," I said. "Tonight was supposed to be romantic. I can't believe she actually wanted to join in. She's worse than a goddamn guy."

Alice slipped onto a stool at the counter. "She's okay," she said. "Trust me, my friends are way worse. In fact, they're more like you. You know, they act like dudes all the time. You'd love them."

I didn't know which was more disturbing, the fact that she thinks I act like a dude or the fact that she was hinting for me to meet her friends again. I didn't want to make any hasty decisions when we were so close to sex, so I decided to change the subject. Luckily, it was a very oblique hint so my deflection wasn't obvious.

"Did you want anything for dessert?" I asked, opening the fridge door. "How about some icecream?"

She sat up on the stool. It always works; distract a chick with icecream.

"Okay," she said. "Put it in the same bowl, we'll share."

I smiled and got a tub out of the freezer. "Why?"

"Because we're in a relationship and it's cute. And this is just the beginning. One day we're going to have to share the same milkshake with two straws. In public."

I chuckled and scooped a double helping into the same bowl, like she requested.

"Chocolate syrup?" I asked, already taking it out of the fridge.

"Of course!" she declared. "Lots."

I suppressed a sigh and poured a generous amount of chocolate syrup over the vanilla icecream. This is where separate bowls would've been better. The pixie worked out a lot more than me, and I couldn't really handle the same intake of calories. If it was just me, I would've held the syrup.

I served the bowl and handed her a spoon, slipping onto the stool beside her. She wasted no time spooning up a big chunk of icecream dripping with syrup.

"Mmm," she said. "You know what we should do? We should do something kinky with the syrup."

I looked at the syrup bottle where it sat on the counter. It had a vaguely phallic shape, but it seemed too thick for any sort of penetrative purpose. Probably she meant some kind of food-play.

"I can't," I said, "I'm watching my weight."

I was mostly joking, but like a good girlfriend she rushed at the defense of my waistline. "Why, you're perfect!" she said. That was nice to hear, but then she giggled and added, "Although it wouldn't kill you to take a Pilates class with me sometime."

I gave her a dry look. She leaned and licked the syrup from my lips.

What a minx.

Alice giggled and went back to the icecream.

"You know," she said. "I've done a threesome."

I raised my eyebrows. Okay, that was a bit random. I would've been happy to scene cut to the bedroom and skip to a sweeter dessert, but I guess Jess's joking around earlier had put the topic of three-ways in the pixie's pretty head.

"You have?" I asked. I'm not a judgmental person, but if it was anyone other than my sweet and innocent girlfriend, I would've called them a whore.

"Mmhm," she said, licking her spoon clean. "Actually, it was a three-way relationship. Leah was dating this girl named Tanya. She was bi, too. I had just broken up with a girl who was cheating on me, so I guess I was kind of vulnerable. In all honesty, I think I just wanted to be with Leah. It was her idea. She thought it would be fun." She shrugged and gave a sigh. "It didn't last long."

I found myself curious. "What happened?"

Another shrug. "Tanya met a guy," she said. "She wanted to include him in the relationship, and I was like: fuck that. Leah backed out pretty quick too. She's never been crazy about guys, really. I think she likes them more in theory than in practice, you know?"

I nodded and felt a wriggle of jealousy. "Do you still hang out with that chick?"

I asked it gently, but she still went a little defensive. "All the time," she said. "Why? We're still friends."

"Just wondering," I said. Then I stabbed at the icecream with my spoon sullenly. "Jealous," I muttered.

She giggled and leaned from her stool to give me a hug. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm not interested in her like that. You know, you should hang out with us sometime. She's pretty cool when you get to know her."

Realistically, I knew that was probably true. I had only met her a couple times and only in dramatic situations that almost led to full-blown catfights. It was unreasonable to believe she was a mean, jealous, and sneering bitch twenty-four hours a day.

"All my friends are dying to meet you," Alice went on, and I knew she was hinting again. "I'm always bragging about you, you know. They keep asking when they're gonna meet you. They probably think you're imaginary by now."

I chuckled, as if she was just kidding. "But doesn't she hate me, though?" I asked. "Leah, I mean."

Alice laughed. "Of course she does," she said. "But who cares. If she wants to be my friend, she's gonna have to be friends with you too. That's the only way you'll stop being jealous. When you can trust her."

I nodded. That made sense, but I still thought it would be easier if Alice just stopped seeing her. I knew from experience how much girls hate it when their boyfriend's try and dictate who they can spend their time with, but did the fact that I'm a girl too change the equation at all? Probably not.

The bowl was almost empty and I had abandoned my share quite a while ago. Alice was spooning up the pool of melted icecream and chocolate syrup from the bottom and making little moans of enjoyment. I was reminded of how much I was looking forward to having sex tonight.

"Mm!" she said, as if she just remembered something. "Hey, listen. Tuesday night I've got Derby practice with all the girls. Why don't you come by and say hi? Leah will be there too and then maybe we can go out."

Looks like this was it. I could evade hinting, but not a direct request. So I nodded and tried to evade it anyway. "Derby?" I said. "What's derby?"

"Roller Derby," she said. "It's what lesbians play when they outgrow softball. You've never heard of it?"

I shook my head.

"It's awesome," she giggled. "You get to wear roller skates and knock bitches out. Full contact, baby. I only play for a minor team, but one of the coaches plays nationally. You gotta come see us. You'll love it."

Her excitement made me smile, and I had to admit I was intrigued. Girl on girl violence in officially sanctioned competition? Things like that make my inner feminist wet.

"Okay," I said. "Sounds like fun."

She lit up. Suddenly I felt a little guilty for how I'd been dodging her friends so long. I really gotta work on not being so selfish in this relationship.

"So you'll be there?" she grinned.

"Sure."

"Great!" she squealed, and gave me a big kiss. Her lips were cold and sugary from the icecream. The bowl was empty by now and when she pulled back she gave me a sultry look. "Now grab the syrup," she said. "Dessert was nice, but I feel… _indulgent_."

She had her arms around my neck and I felt my face heat. "I don't know," I stammered, "I've never really used food in bed before, and…"

I trailed off as she wiped a finger across the bottom of the bowl and placed it into my mouth. I froze with her finger on my tongue and chocolate swirling in my mouth. Smiling, she withdrew the finger and I swallowed the syrup and the huge lump in my throat.

"Um," I said. "Okay."

—

Chapter 28:

—

Derby was…interesting.

They held practice at about eight o'clock at night—so they could go out drinking afterwards, apparently—and I arrived at the arena a little late. Alice and the team were already down in the hockey rink, all clad in their outrageous derby gear, skating around with loud jeers and shouts. Their costumes took me by surprise. The only things they wore that seemed to make sense were elbow and knee pads. Otherwise they looked like they were dressed as extras for some music video about freaky scary bitches.

Alice was the smallest girl on the team, and possibly the youngest. She was also the most modestly dressed, in a pair of tight little yoga shorts over tie-dyed spandex tights. Her ass was the first thing I noticed – it fit remarkably well in her shorts.

The others were dressed a little more eclectic, to put it gently. To put it bluntly, they looked like a bunch of neo-feminist hooligans, all of them pierced and tattooed, short hair, long hair, dyed hair, one of them bald with a tattoo of a spiderweb over her skull. Fat, thin, tall, short. One of them had more muscles than I'd ever seen on a guy. She was skating with a woman I recognized as Leah, who was wearing pair of a booty shorts and a tank top with the logo 'Got Derby?' written across the bust. Another woman in booty shorts skated by with sequins twinkling on her rear. She was chasing a woman in fishnets that showed the tribal tattoo's that covered her legs. They were in the middle of some kind of drill which ended with fishnets getting squished and laid out on her ass. A cheer went up from some of the girls and a bleached blonde with a pierced nose and a ring in her lip commented on the exchange with some very vulgar language.

There was already a small crowd gathered at the barricade, spouses with kids and some guys in hockey uniforms who seemed to be sticking around after their own practice. I wandered up, wondering what the fuck these bitches were doing. There seemed to be no order to the mayhem and it was unlike any other sport I'd seen.

Alice didn't notice me right away, she seemed to be trapped in her own little world. She wore a black helmet with a skull on it and she was doing a drill with Leah which involved them skating a line with Leah's hands on Alice's hips. I frowned as jealousy began to bubble in my chest. Alice's butt was incredibly cute in her yoga shorts, and I really hoped she was moving too fast for Leah to look at it too closely.

Finally my roller pixie noticed me where I stood uncertain at the barricade. She grinned at my expression and waved. She was wearing a lot of eyeblack and I smiled at how my heart flickered from how sexy and cute she looked in her helmet and pads. Some of the other girls noticed the wave and a bunch of catcalls went up.

Practice had only just started and a bunch of the team broke away from the drills so Alice could introduce me. Leah remained behind. Alice skated up to me so fast I thought she might topple over the barricade, but she braked just in time and wrapped me into a quick hug. She was mildly flushed and her derby gear had a sexy athletic smell.

I barely had time to apologize for being late when a flock of weird women closed in on us and demanded if I was the one Alice kept talking about. Alice linked my arm and introduced me proudly as her girlfriend, which made me feel like quite a prize. She then introduced her friends, by both their real names and their derby names. Apparently in derby you take a nickname or an alternate persona, anything from cute to vulgar to violent. I met a woman named Amelia Smackaround, a woman named 24 Karat Cake, a woman named SpongeBob Hotpants. There were two girls called GimmeMore and HardCore, and apparently they were a couple. One of them had her face painted as a skull and the other had a tongue stud that was difficult not to notice. Both had tattoo sleeves and a wild look about them. Their names were probably pretty accurate. It turned me on just being near them.

I was starting to wonder if the whole team was gay, but there were plenty of chicks with wedding rings or husbands in the audience. One of the older girls on the team had a husband and three kids on the sidelines cheering for her and she appeared to be pretty normal, dressed mostly modest like Alice. Her name was Rocki Road, and after meeting her I kind of got a weird vibe. Alice whispered to me that she was totally in the closet and after that I kept noticing how the poor woman was ogling her teammate's rears.

Guess it made sense – you'd have to be at least partly gay to enjoy a sport like this. It made softball look like a tea party. I didn't see how you could even play it without some kind of testosterone imbalance. It was like football on skates but with fishnets instead of armor.

Practice had resumed and I took my place at the barricade, watching, chatting with a female transsexual who was dating the captain. She gave me a brief rundown on how the game is played, and honestly, I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. It looked kind of fun, but very intimidating. I wondered what Alice was expecting of me here. Was I supposed to simply watch and enjoy it? Or was she maybe hoping I might be interested in joining someday?

They had started up a scrimmage, which is basically a practice game, and they weren't pulling any punches. Alice played the position of jammer, which is basically like a striker in soccer. She was the one who scored the points, the center of the team, the star. Nimble on her skates, weaving through the blockers. Leah was one of the blockers, and I think I detected some built up resentment there. I didn't like the way she snarled at my girlfriend and tried to take her out. But the pixie was quick on her skates, so quick and so skilled that she even gave me a wink as she went by. It didn't make me wet, but I grinned – my very own Derby Hero.

Unfortunately, this momentary distraction gave Leah the opportunity she had been waiting for. She had noticed the wink, and maybe it was a sudden fit of jealousy that enabled her to finally block Alice. For a second it looked like Alice was going to make it. She came around at high speed, signaling for the jam as she winked at me, and—

Boom.

Leah caught her with a vicious hipcheck as she was trying to get by. Alice squawked and literally went flying. She hit the hardwood floor with a solid smack, bounced, and rolled away into a crumpled heap of broken pixie. The rest of the team had burst out laughing, including Leah, but I felt a black rage sweep over me.

"You _bitch_!" I screamed.

Silence descended over the arena. Some of the team were still chuckling and the audience was smiling at me as if I must be new here. The only person who wasn't smiling was Leah.

Alice struggled up on her skates, slipped a bit, and righted herself. Even she was smiling and she didn't seem critically damaged. Maybe I had overreacted. It was a contact sport, after all. One of the girls was helping Alice to her feet and Alice gave a giggle at how everyone was grinning at the overprotective partner in the audience.

"That's my girlfriend," she told them in a dopey voice.

"Awww!" they gushed all at once, as if they had rehearsed it.

Then they went on practicing.

After the scrimmage they broke up and fell back to the showers. When they came out again they looked more like regular women, although some of them still scared the shit out of me.

Most of us were going out for drinks, but some of the mother's had to get home. Hard to imagine these hard-ass bitches hurrying home so they can kiss their kids goodnight and get a quickie with the husband. But apparently they were all regular people, and if they were anything like Alice, I guess that was true. Alice was the sweetest girl I'd ever met, but out on that hockey rink she had been like a vicious little Chihuahua. We all have our wild side, I suppose.

The bar we went to wasn't a gay bar, just a normal bar that sponsored the team. They were regulars there and they seemed to be well known. Most of them drank beers and I remembered how Alice had made fun of me for ordering a beer on our first date. She was drinking a beer now. Quite a little hypocrite, my pixie.

Alice was happy to show me off to her friends, but we did have a few moments alone. We were sitting at a table in the back, taking a breather. It was a lively bar with karaoke, but thankfully it wasn't karaoke night. They had a dance floor where GimmeMore and HardCore were dancing and grabbing ass in an ostentatious fashion. Cute names, but I liked Alice's derby name the best. They called her Alice Cull'em. It was a play on words from one of her favorite vampire characters.

"So, what did you think about derby?" Alice asked me, still giddy from her practice session. "Pretty awesome, huh? Think you'll wanna join? I mean, you used to play softball, and you're still kind of athletic. It would be so awesome if you were on the team."

I chuckled and wracked my brain to come up with a non-committal way to say oh hell no. "I don't know, it seems pretty intimidating," I said. "I can't even skate."

"Me either when I first joined," Alice went on excitedly. "But it's awesome, trust me. You should think about it. It's great for self-confidence. There's all kinds of girls on the team. We're all very accepting. It's like a family. You can really be yourself when you're out there."

"Sounds cool," I said, nodding.

Alice looked like she wanted to say more, but she could tell I wasn't really into it. I felt bad, but I couldn't force myself to be something I'm not. Call me old fashioned, but I didn't think I'd ever fit in properly with these kinds of people. One day, maybe. I hoped so. This was part of Alice's life, her lifestyle. And if I truly did love her, it was going to have to be a lifestyle I shared with her someday.

Alice took a swig of her beer—straight out the bottle—and stood up. "Come on," she said. "Let me introduce you to some of the girls."

Taking our beers with us, she led me to the bar to meet two of her closer friends. One of them was a tall black woman and the other was a small brunette, not as cute as the pixie, but close.

"Hey, look who's here," said the black woman when she saw us coming. She aimed a smirk at me and said, "Damn. Alice said you were a looker."

I blushed. I guess this was another lesbian. And I thought softball had been bad.

"Bella, this is Zafrina," Alice said. "We call her Zaf. And this is Kate."

The girl called Kate smiled at me. I could tell she was straight right away. My gaydar must be getting better. She was also much older than she looked, because I remembered her with a husband and daughter at the practice.

"Hi, nice to meet you," she said. "Alice has told us everything about you."

She was shaking my hand. Very friendly chick. I chuckled awkwardly, tugged away my hand, and said, "Did she tell you I'm nervous around new people?"

Bam. I'm a fucking comedian.

Alice giggled at my little icebreaker and linked an arm with mine. "Isn't she adorable?" she gushed, hugging my arm. "I'm just crazy about her. Go on, baby, tell them I'm crazy about you."

I chuckled awkwardly again, hoping she wasn't serious. I wasn't going to tell them that, and I didn't think they really wanted to hear.

The taller woman, Zafrina, noticed my awkwardness and gave me a big grin. "Don't worry, honey, you got nothing to worry about. We're not gonna bite you. Unless you like it like that."

"Zaf, take it easy on my girlfriend."

"Aw, I'm just playing," said the taller woman. Next to the tiny brunette she looked like a frickin amazon. The bartop was barely taller than her hips. "You need another drink there, honey?" she asked me.

I still had a bit left in the bottom of my bottle, but I finished it off in one last swig. "Actually, I need to go to the bathroom," I said, passing the empty bottle to Alice. "I'll be back in a sec."

Alice looked sad to let me out of her sight and without thinking she said, "Do you want me to come with you?"

The three of us looked at her. The music continued to play in the background and she blushed as she realized what she said. She was kind of tipsy.

"Um," she said. "Forget it, I was kidding."

She flapped a hand to tell me to carry on. Zafrina shook her head.

"Clingy, isn't she?" she said. "Why don't you just go ahead and put a leash on her Alice, you know you want to."

"Zaf," Kate said, with a mock warning in her tone. "We promised we wouldn't mention Alice's hardcore bondage fetish, remember?"

I raised an eyebrow at my innocent looking girlfriend. Who had participated in threesomes and used to keep a friend with benefits. Was bondage really unbelievable? She giggled and waved her beer bottle. "They're teasing," she said.

I'm sure they were, but I liked to tease too. So I smirked at her and said, "Too bad."

Zaf and Kate went "Oooooh," in a schoolyard chorus, and I turned and sauntered away, leaving my girlfriend with an impish and contemplative blush.

Leah was sitting at a table alone. I noticed her as I pushed open the restroom door and the look she gave me was dark enough to recall me of those news stories where people got mugged in bathrooms.

So I did my business quickly and quickly washed my hands. The bathroom was completely empty, which didn't exactly make me feel better. But it was silly to worry. Leah was obviously a very jealous person, and her feelings for Alice were obviously far stronger than anyone assumed, but that didn't mean she was going to follow me into the bathroom, and—

The bathroom door swung open. There was a surge of music and then it swung closed again.

Leah appeared in the bathroom mirror.

Great. Just what I need when I'm finally starting to feel comfortable with my new orientation – lesbian drama with my girlfriend's drunk and jealous ex. I finished drying my hands and turned to face her. I didn't bother pretending to be friendly and neither did she.

"So," she said. "Alice finally managed to drag you around, huh?"

Her voice came out a little slow and I realized she really was drunk. There was a mean look in her face and I actually felt a small wriggle of fear. I had never felt physically threatened by another woman before, but I took one look at her biceps and the tattoos on her biceps and decided to play it safe and polite.

"Guess so," I said.

"Hmph," she snorted. "Tell me something. When are you gonna stop pretending to be in love with her and leading her on?"

This hurt, and gave me a warm flash of anger. I loved Alice and I was trying my best and it was none of her fucking business anyway.

"I'm not leading her on," I said firmly. "Alice is very special to me."

Leah grinned and chuckled once, as if I had said a funny joke and she was too lazy to laugh at it. "She was special to me too," she said. "Until she decided she didn't want to be my girlfriend and wanted to be a piece of ass instead."

My stomach tightened. "What did you say?"

"I said your girlfriend is nothing but a little piece of—"

I slapped her.

Mistake.

I don't usually slap people, but the rage had overtaken me. Unfortunately, it didn't have much effect on the other woman other than a nice stinging sound. Leah was vice-captain on the team and Alice once told me that she had dislocated her shoulder in the middle of a bout, got up from the floor, popped the bone back into the coupling, and went on playing. In other words; this was one tough bitch.

And the slap only seemed to make her mad.

"Oh, you fucking—" she said, and then she punched me.

It caught me square in the nose. My nose broke and I stumbled back with blood running from it. I couldn't believe it. The bitch had broke my nose. I looked at her in disbelief, saw her standing there, and felt rage sweep over me.

"You fucking _bitch_!" I screamed, and launched myself at her.

Okay, maybe I was slightly drunk too.

I threw a punch, but it didn't really land on anything worth landing on. She swatted at me as if I was an insect, possibly not wanting to hurt me, but I grabbed her and tried to, um…hurt her. Somehow. I didn't have any fight training. All I knew was the Way of the Cat, and at her I went, clawing and screaming and pulling her hair. The bitch had insulted my girl and broken my nose and grrr I was so mad.

We grappled and fell to the floor. She didn't seem to be fighting back much, just trying to pry me off her. I was about to give up on the hope of doing any real damage to the bitch, when the bathroom door swung open and a bunch of the derby girls came crowding in. They must have heard me screaming.

They saw what was going on and immediately started yodeling and shouting encouragement. Alice had come barreling in, flanked by Zafrina and Kate. I was embarrassed at the attention and started scrambling to my feet, wiping my bloody nose with my wrist.

"Bella!?" Alice cried. "What's going on, what happened to your poor nose?"

Um, I wasn't sure for a second. The adrenaline was making things seem weird. Leah had struggled to her feet, swaying slightly and looking a little ashamed of herself. Alice was waiting for an explanation, so I pointed at the other woman feebly.

"She called you a piece of ass," I said.

Zafrina grinned and gave Alice a spank. "Yep, she is."

Kate tittered. Alice looked at her and she stopped. Alice turned back to Leah with a dark frown. Leah's eyes had gone a little shiny.

"Alice—" she started to explain, but Alice cut her off.

"Fuck you, Leah," she said. "From now on, you stay away from me and my girlfriend. You're not my friend anymore. In fact, don't ever speak to me again."

Then she took my hand, huffed, and hauled me out of the bathroom.

—

Chapter 29:

—

As it turned out, my nose wasn't broken, just kind of messed up. It had stopped bleeding pretty quick but the bruise lasted even longer than the rupture between Alice and Leah. Alice was too sweet to hold a grudge and I was too tough to let her know how much my nose really hurt. Leah sent a text to apologize and that's really all it took. The next week I was back at derby practice with a bruised and swelled up face, watching my girlfriend get laid out by her ex and laugh about it. To be fair, the jealous bitch really did seem sorry. She even said hi to me without looking like she wanted to rip out my heart.

My relationship with Alice seemed to have turned a corner in those next weeks. We spend more time in public and with company, with Jess or with Alice's derby friends. I even bought her to lunch with Angela a few times. Angela would never be completely accepting of my new lifestyle, but she was still a close friend. Alice didn't like her much, but if I had to put up with getting punched in the face by _her_ friends, she could at least put up with a bit of snobbery from _mine_.

All in all, I felt like I was finally making the transition. Changing. Becoming a new person. I didn't even have denial anymore – in fact, I was kind of proud of the new me. Sometimes I would even catch myself just sitting and smiling at the fact that I was a lesbian. After all, why not? It seemed like a nice thing to be. Sex with chicks, no man to put up with. Sure, same-sex couples are the least accepted social coupling in the world—even in places where incest is legal—but hey. Who cares when you have a girlfriend like Alice?

Alice really was amazing. I still hadn't gotten over how perfect she was. So pretty, and sweet, and friendly. And the sex! My god, I had never known anything like it. We'd been together quite a while by now, but we still seemed to be in the happy-bunny honeymoon phase. I'd never been in a relationship were the sex actually got better over time, but then again I'd never had a girlfriend with a bedside drawer full of sex toys and crotchless underwear. It also helped that I really loved her. Sex is always better when you love your partner, and what else could it be but true love when you find yourself comfortable and trusting enough to lay on your back and let your lover stick strange things in you?

I just wish I could tell her. We hadn't really confessed the true depth of our feelings yet, and it was something I really wanted to do. But it was always hard the first time. The timing had to be right. It wasn't something you could blurt out as you made the bed or watched TV. Besides, it was complicated. While I was absolutely certain that the pixie would forever be the woman I love, I was cautious about adding any pressure on her to return those feelings. I was quite sure she did, but with all her paranoia about dating girls who used to be straight, I wanted her to feel as absolutely positive about us as I did.

So I bided my time, doing my best to convince her with actions. One night we were at a club with Jess and some guy hit on me with Alice right beside me. I told him I was a lesbian, just so Alice could hear me say it out loud. It worked to make her happy, but it backfired on the guy. He pestered us for a whole minute to prove it by making out in front of him until I got a little cross and told him that even if I was straight I would still tell him to fuck off. He shuffled away with an injured air of hostility, mumbling various homophobic and misogynistic insults under his breath. What a loser.

But my biggest test was coming up on Sunday – Thanksgiving. That was the day I would meet Alice's parents, and what a better way to impress the GF than by making good with the future in-laws? I was actually a little excited. According to Alice they were both terrific people, but more than that, I was eager to ensconce myself even deeper into my girlfriend's life. I was at the point where I really _really_ wanted to be with the pixie for the rest of my life, and meeting her parents was a key element in the mating ritual.

Alice came from a wealthy family and it was quite a drive out to their house. Her parents lived in a stately mansion just outside town, cited on a rise over the road and surrounded by lush woods and foliage. I was no expert in luxury real estate, but I could tell at a glance that Alice's daddy was one rich bastard. It was a seven figure property, easily.

I let out a low whistle as the car crunched up the gravel drive. Beyond the house there was a stunning long range view of a deep water lake that dissolved into fog under a gray sky. The lakefront was professionally landscaped and there was a small speedboat at anchor by the dock next to the floating boathouse.

"Don't be nervous, okay?" Alice said, as she parked in the driveway. "My parents are gonna love you."

I nodded, but a disturbing thought occurred to me – what if they think I'm not good enough for their daughter? I do okay with my novels, but I'd never be able to provide Alice with a house like this. But hey, I'm a chick too – how come Alice can't do the providing?

In any case, it wasn't the time or place to assign each other long term gender roles, so we got out the car and approached the tall oakwood door. Alice knocked on the door and I smoothed down my coat self-consciously.

"So, what's your mother like?" I asked. "I mean, you said she's supportive, right?"

Alice was wearing her beret and the little pompom on top of it bounced as she nodded. "Mmhm," she said. "She bought me a strap-on for my eighteenth birthday and a bunch of porno tapes so I'd know how to use it. She's insane."

I didn't know if that was supposed to set me at ease, but it didn't. I was about to ask if she was kidding when the door swung open and we were confronted by a woman in an apron with a radiant smile and a flour smear on her cheek as if she'd been baking all morning.

Alice's mom.

She was as old as you'd expect the mother of a full grown adult to be, but remarkably beautiful, undoubtedly the work of expensive skincreams. Her caramel colored hair was gathered in a bun and a few locks were dislodged across her forehead, giving her a strangely rakish look. Judging from her smile, she had been very excited to see Alice.

"Alice, hi!" she squealed, and wrapped her daughter into a hug. She was wearing ovenmitts and patting Alice on the back. "Ooh, it's been so long since I've seen you! Look at you, you're so thin!"

"Hi, mom," Alice said. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"You too, sweetie, you too" her mom said, and then turned to me. Her smile widened and she seemed honestly thrilled to meet me. "And this must be Bella."

I nodded, ready with my line. I had been practicing it in my head all week.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Alice's Girlfriend."

It came out slightly formal, but I resisted the urge to cringe. I could even hear myself pronounce it with a capital letter. The woman raised an eyebrow at me and I realized how stupid I was. Of course I was her girlfriend – unless it was somehow plausible that she had bought her accountant to Thanksgiving dinner.

Alice giggled, proud of me nonetheless, and linked her arm with mine. "She knows, baby," she said. "I told her all about you ages ago."

"And all great things," her mom interjected, "so don't you worry about that. Now come here, let me hug you."

I went to hug her but the woman closed in on me like a predator. I actually grunted softly as she squished the air out of me and shook me like a doll. She smelt like cinnamon, apple-pie, and expensive perfume.

"Oooh, it's so nice to finally meet the woman who makes my daughter so happy," she said, and finally released me. She left her hands on my shoulders and gave me a fiercely affectionate look. "And I want you to make yourself completely at home here, okay? Alice has told me you're still adjusting, and I don't want you to have any problems being yourself. This is a house of love. And acceptance. We love gay people here."

Jesus. The woman really was insane.

I shot a look at my girlfriend, but she was pinching the bridge of her nose in embarrassment. I wasn't going to get any help from her, so I turned back to the lunatic with the ovenmitts and tried a smile.

"Gee," I said. "That's great."

It pleased her. She gave a grin and a big nod and ushered us into the house. "Now, come in, come in," she said. "I'm glad you arrived so early, Alice, I was just getting started on the—"

She broke off as we came into the kitchen. There was a man chopping carrots at the counter and she seemed surprised to see him even though he was obviously her husband.

"Oh, this is my husband," the woman introduced me. "Alice's father."

The man smiled at me, and I was beginning to see where Alice got her genes from. He was movie star handsome, with perfect blonde hair and a lithe frame. He wore a suit with an apron over it, and his smile was almost powerful enough to turn me straight again.

"Nice to meet you, Bella," he said. "Alice has told us all about you."

I nodded awkwardly. "Thanks."

That didn't even make sense, but no one seemed to notice.

"Alice," her mother was saying, "wait till you see the turkey, you're gonna die when you see it. Here, let me show you, I was just about to get it into the oven."

The turkey was sitting on the counter. It was one of the hugest birds I had ever seen in my life, but I didn't know what was so exciting about it. To be honest, I never liked Thanksgiving dinner. Eating turkey always made me wonder why we couldn't have chicken instead.

"Bella, would you like to help us in the kitchen?" she asked, when she noticed me lurking in the archway. "It's not offensive if I ask, is it? I know some of you girls like to avoid women's work. I believe they call it butch?"

I blinked. Is this woman for real?

Alice gave her mother a withering look. "Bella's not butch, mom."

"Well, I can see that, look at her hair!" said her mother, losing interest in the turkey. She had taken off an oven mitt and now she came around the counter and started pawing at my hair. "You know, I can't tell you how thrilled I am that my daughter's finally found someone with beautiful hair. I was so heart broken when she cut her own hair. I kept a lock of it, I keep it in the photo album. I'll show you after we eat, you'll just cry at some of her baby pictures."

I glanced wildly at Alice. She was pinching the bridge of her nose again.

"Oh god," she said, and I had to agree.

It was still early morning, and soon the four of us were busy about the kitchen. Usually four people in one kitchen would be crowded. Not in this one.

There were four kitchens in the house and this wasn't even the largest. The floor was polished hardwood and the cabinets and counters were polished maple. An iron chandelier hung over the center island and the windows looked out over the lake where a group of swans were coasting through the mist.

I tried to look for an opportunity to compliment the householders on their fine home, but there was rarely an opportunity to speak with Alice's mother in the room. She chatted almost ceaselessly about anything and everything, but she always circled back to the turkey and instructions about the kitchen. Soon we had the turkey in the oven and the vegetables roasting. Then she turned her attention to dessert and began whipping up pies, apple, pumpkin, apricot, and soon the other three ovens in the house were fired up and filled with trays of pies. I wondered how many the woman expected to be eaten, but apparently she was making extra for Alice to take home with her. Such a sweet mom.

It was a pretty hectic morning, but soon Alice and I had a moment to ourselves. It was almost time to eat and her mother had retreated from her labors and gone upstairs to get changed for the guests that would be arriving any minute.

Alice and I each had a glass of wine and we were sipping in the living room by the fireplace. There were eight of them in total, scattered throughout the house. All of them were real and some of them had been lit to keep the house warm. After the hell of meeting my girlfriend's manic mother, it was nice to relax by an open fire with a glass of wine. I sighed, and Alice seem to know what I was thinking.

"Sorry about my mom," she said. "I told you she can be a little over-supportive. When I was a teenager I was afraid she was in love with me or something."

I chuckled at that. The woman did have a creepy quality to her, but overall, I really liked her. "She's great," I said. "I wish my mom was like that."

Alice nodded and sipped her wine. "How did yours take it?"

"Take what?"

"When you told her about me?"

"Oh," I said, and despite my efforts to lesbify myself lately, I felt a shiver. Telling mom was something I was still not really looking forward to. "I don't know, I haven't spoken to her yet. We're not really close, I don't really see her."

"That's a shame," Alice said. "How come?"

To be honest, I didn't even know. For starters, she lived in Florida. I was about to start explaining this when the doorbell rang. Alice looked up at the ceiling, as if wondering where it was coming from, and I felt my stomach flip. After meeting her mother, I was a little wary of meeting the rest of her relatives.

"Oh Alice!" her mother called out after answering the door. "Guess who's here!"

For some reason, I didn't like the sound of that. I was already frowning and my frown went darker as a man entered the living room and grinned at Alice. He was tall and he had long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail.

Alice squealed and shoved her wine glass into my hand for me to hold.

"Jazz!" she gushed, and jumped at him in a hug. "Oh my gosh, I can't believe you made it!"

He laughed and hugged her back tightly. "Just got back yesterday," he said. "I was gonna call, but I wanted to surprise you. You think I'd miss out on your mother's cooking?"

Alice giggled and released him. I was standing there with the two wine glasses and my frown had darkened even further. What the fuck was going on? From the exchange I just witnessed I had to assume he was some long lost boyfriend who had just returned into my girlfriend's life. But was that possible? I knew the pixie had a habit of staying friends with people after the breakup, but she had never mentioned dating a guy. She had been a lesbian all her life, she told me so herself.

So who the fuck was this asshole?

I didn't know, but the asshole was holding my girlfriend's hand and looking at her body in an admiring way. "Wow," he said. "You look amazing. Was your ass always that cute or is it just because I haven't seen it in a while?"

A blush of rage rushed into my face and I almost crushed the wine glasses in my bare hands. Alice giggled again, tugged her hand out of his, and swatted his shoulder.

"Oh, stop it," she said, "you know I'll never compete with yours."

Okay. Is it just me, or is my girlfriend flirting with some guy right in front of me?

He grinned and rubbed his hands together, holding them to the fire. "Well, that's probably true," he said, and then he seemed to notice me for the first time. "And who's this?"

"This is Bella, my new girlfriend," Alice said, taking her wineglass back. "Remember, I told you on the phone?"

"Ah, so you're the one who stole my little Alice's heart," he said, grabbing Alice with one arm and roughing her around playfully, making her giggle all over again.

I'm sure there was some logical explanation for all this, but I didn't see it. So I glared at him and didn't smile. "Yeah, I did," I said. "So why don't you back up and get your arm off her?"

They froze. The guy called Jazz cleared his throat, blinked politely, and backed away from Alice. Alice was still smiling, her eyes sparkling. Obviously there was some misunderstanding here that was hugely amusing, but I still didn't see it.

"Bella," Alice said. "Jasper's gay. He's like a brother to me."

Oh. Well, that did make a little more sense. But it didn't make the jealousy go away, because I knew from personal experience just how powerful the pixie's cuteness can be.

"So?" I demanded. "You turned _me_ away from men, how do you know you won't turn _him_?"

Alice bit her lip as if she didn't want to laugh at me. The blonde guy raised his eyebrows and shared a glance with Alice.

"She's got a point," he said.

Alice swatted him again. "Stop it."

He put the grin back on his face and turned to me. "Jasper Whitlock," he said, holding out a hand for a formal introduction. "Nice to meet you."

I shook it, still frowning but deciding that I'd already overreacted enough. "Yeah, you too."

Meanwhile, someone else had entered the living room. Actually, she had been there the whole time. It was Leah, lurking in the background, still not quite comfortable around me. She had arrived with the guy called Jasper. They'd probably shared a ride.

Alice spied her and gave her a friendly smile. "Hi, Leah," she said. "Glad you could make it."

Leah tossed her chin. "Hey."

I nodded at her. "Hey."

She nodded back. "Hey."

Then we fell silent. The fireplace crackled as we all exchanged glances. Alice was holding her wine glass in both hands and she was smiling at how awkward me and Leah were. Jasper chuckled silently and finally clapped his hands together.

"Well," he said. "I better go say hi to your dad and stare at him and make him uncomfortable. Is he still as sexy as he always was?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "If you like that kind of thing."

"Come on, Lee-Lee," he said, dragging Leah out the room. "Let's leave these love birds alone."

My head was in a bit of a whir from the sudden onset of jealousy, but I relaxed as soon as he was gone. I didn't mean to be so possessive, but when a man admires my lady's ass right in front of me, he's lucky I don't rip his nuts off – gay or not.

Alice sighed and turned back to me, still glowing from seeing her old friend. She had been in a holiday mood all day. In the warm glow of the fireplace she looked very pretty.

"Sorry about that," she said. "But seriously, don't worry about Jazz. He's so gay it's almost embarrassing. We flirt with each other all the time, it's like a game."

I'd be keeping an eye on that guy, but I decided to let it go. "Do you always invite friends to thanksgiving?"

"Just Jazz and Leah," she said. "They're not really on good terms with their families, so…"

I nodded quietly. That made sense. Not all gay people can luck out with a mother as psychotically supportive as the pixie's. Once my own mother finds out, I'll probably be spending all of my holidays here too.

Pretty soon more guests began to arrive and I was introduced to a few of Alice's close relatives. An uncle, an aunt, a female cousin who got a little drunk and confessed to doing kiss practice with Alice when they were kids. Most of her family seemed like nice people. No weirdoes, aside from her mom, and even her mom really wasn't that bad.

It was just her sister that was a bitch. Her name was Cynthia. She was blonde like her daddy and maybe a couple years younger than Alice. She greeted her parents with a preppy college girl enthusiasm but she barely had a cold smile for Alice. It didn't seem to bother the pixie, but it pissed me off. It would've been so great if Alice had grown up with the perfect family. She was still pretty lucky, but Alice deserves the best.

Soon we were sitting down to eat. Alice's dad carved the turkey while we all complimented Alice's mom on how terrific it looked. She deflected all the praise to Alice and 'her girlfriend Bella' for helping her in the in the kitchen. She made sure everyone knew I was Alice's girlfriend, presumably so I could see how cool everybody was with that. In her mind, I guess it was supposed to help make me comfortable. In reality, it made me want to crawl under the table and sob in embarrassment.

Dinner was great and we all ate a lot, aside from me and Cynthia. Cynthia because she was on a diet and me because I didn't want to go on a diet. Cynthia even refused to have any pie, which seemed to break her mother's heart. I didn't want any either, but I insisted on a large piece to cheer her up. It worked, and she even gave me an extra scoop of icecream on top, telling me let her know if I wanted seconds because there was plenty left.

Soon we were all fed and full, and the male half of the family retired to the living room to watch the football game. Cynthia and the cousin and one of the aunts went with them while the rest of the females gathered up the dishes and scraped the left overs into a garbage bag and stacked the plates on the kitchen counter. Some of us had glasses of wine, some of us had beer bottles. Alice's grandmother was a stout old woman with gray hair, and she had found out that I write novels for a living. She asked which novels, and I was shocked that she was actually big fan of mine. She was shocked as well, because she "never would've guessed that a lesbian could write such sexy men." I wanted to explain to her that male attractiveness was so cliché and formulaic that a trained monkey could write it, but the old woman seemed to take her romance very seriously.

Alice's mother had filled the dishwasher and decided to wash a few things at the sink, just for fun apparently. We all chipped in, but the kitchen was pretty crowded. Alice could tell I was kind of frazzled from being poked and prodded by her relatives for the past two hours and she asked me if I wanted to go for a walk outside. I whispered in her ear oh god yes.

It was cool outside and we were both bundled up in our heavy winter coats. We strolled out from the terrace and followed the lakeshore around the boathouse, holding hands and letting our hands swing. It was cold enough to plume our breath and it felt nice to be alone with Alice.

"You have an awesome family," I told her as we walked. "You're really lucky."

Alice grinned coyly. "Yeah," she said. "But what about you, how come you didn't want to spend Thanksgiving with your parents? You know I'd loved to meet them."

The mention of my parents dimmed my glow a little. Sad, really. No matter how perfect my relationship was, it was never going to be _perfect._

"They're divorced," I said. "I don't see them very often. My mom can be a little overbearing and my dad…well, he's great, but I guess I'm a bad daughter. I even forgot to call him on father's day."

I said that last part with chuckle, not caring at all about my poor old dad. Alice looked aghast.

"That's awful!" she cried, pausing to slap my shoulder playfully. "You should get back in touch with him. Imagine how much he misses you."

I shrugged. To be honest, me and my dad were much alike. The abandonment seemed kind of mutual. We had gone our separate ways, that's all. But I wanted to please the pixie, and she was right; I was going to have to tell him one day.

"Yeah, maybe," I said. I was gonna leave it at that, but I went on, deciding to confess some of my anxieties. "It's just kind of hard, you know? I just can't picture a conversation where I tell him I'm gay. I mean, how the fuck are you supposed to say something like that? I haven't spoken to him in a year, and I'm supposed to just call him and…"

We were still holding hands, strolling slowly along the lakefront. A stand of reeds rustled in the shore as a trio of ducks quacked out across the water. I looked at the pixie to see if my mild outburst had upset her but her face was calm and understanding.

"Well, maybe it'll be a good way to get him involved in your life again," she suggested. "You'd be surprised. Most parents can be pretty cool about it. And you'll always have me there to help you through it."

I nodded, but I didn't want to deal with it right now. I just wanted to enjoy my alone time with Alice. "Yeah, I don't know," I said. "Anyway, it doesn't matter right now. Hey, want a piggy back ride?"

The idea had just popped into my head but I smiled as I said it. She smiled too and stopped walking.

"Excuse me?" she said.

"A piggy back ride," I said, almost glowing at what brilliant idea it was. "I had a boyfriend once who gave me a piggy back ride on the beach, it was awesome. You'll love it, trust me."

She giggled and shook her head. I could tell she wanted to, but she seemed to think it was beneath her dignity. "Are you serious?" she said. "What am I, a child? You think you can distract me from serious issues with the offer of a _piggy_ back ride?"

"Pleeease?" I whined.

She pouted and thought about it for a second.

"Are you sure you can carry me?"

Actually, I wasn't at all positive, but I nodded. "Of course," I said. "Come on, hop on."

She continued to pretend to be reluctant for a few seconds, but finally she caved.

"Well," she said. "Okay," she giggled.

I turned around and looked out over the lake as she climbed onto my back. It was a little tricky in our coats, but I got my arms hooked under her legs and immediately had regrets. Alice hefted her small hundred pound frame onto my back and it was all I could do not to buckle and collapse into the grass.

"Oof," I said. "Fuck you're heavy."

She giggled and wrapped her arms around me. "Just be thankful it's mostly muscle mass," she said. "And maybe a bit of turkey. Now stop stalling and let's go! Giddyup, horsie!"

"Okay," I gasped, already puffed out. "Shit. Here we go."

I took a step and then another one and finally managed some kind of jog. I could feel the pixie bouncing on my back and I could hear her giggling.

"Whoo hoo!" she cheered, arms tight around my neck. "You're right, this is pretty fun! Faster, horsie, faster!"

I tried to go faster, but I was toast. I had made some distance along the lakeshore, but I had gone as far as I could go. A sheen of sweat had broke out across my face, cold in the cold wind, and I was gasping for breath. I tried to slow down and fell to one knee. Alice giggled and burst out laughing, sliding off my back into the long dewy grass.

"Oh god," I wheezed. "That's so much harder than it looks."

Alice was glowing, sitting there in the grass, all wrapped up in her black coat with her black beret on her head. Her cheeks were bright with color and her eyes shining.

"Thanks for that, baby," she said. "That was awesome."

I nodded, trying to get my breath back. I blinked at how pretty her expression was and felt myself blushing.

"You're welcome," I said.

She waited for my breathing to slow, watching me. She hadn't stopped smiling and her head was slightly cocked, her big brown eyes round and full of love. She had plucked a strand of grass and she was picking at it idly. She had never looked at me like this before, and I felt my cheeks begin to simmer under her scrutiny. We were beyond view of the house and completely alone. Butterflies had begun to stir in my stomach and—

"I really love you, baby," she said softly.

It took me by surprise. Tears of emotion began to well in my eyes and my breathing stopped completely. I had been waiting a long time to say that exact same thing, and now I could finally say it. I swallowed and tried not to cry.

"I love you too," I said.

It was the first time we'd said it out loud and it was perfect. Her smile bloomed into the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen and she leaned forward and kissed me. The touch of her lips made a soft moan come from my chest and slowly she laid me down into the grass.

I had closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around her eagerly. I could feel the wet grass in my hair, but her warmth seemed to cover me. I moaned again, opening my mouth for her, feeling an indescribable need wash over me. I was giddy and weak and lightheaded and I needed her so badly. I needed her forever. I needed to let her know how much I loved her.

My hands had snaked under her coat and I was stroking her clothes all over. My hands passed over the rough seams of her jeans, her back pockets. I caressed the material of her top, stroking my hands up and down her sides, fondling her bracups and moaning as she deepened the kiss. Her own hands were stroking my face and making my face burn. An insistent throbbing had begun between my legs and suddenly I caught one of her tiny hands and guided it between my thighs.

My body shuddered as I felt her fingers press against the front of my jeans. We were unzipping each other, each of us feeling the same need, the same burning desire. She broke the kiss, but we didn't speak. Her breath was gasping against my lips and she whimpered as I slipped my fingers into her wetness. A wave of lust washed over her gorgeous face and then she refocused her eyes on me. She looked at me and as she looked at me she pushed her fingers inside me and made me groan. I clenched down on her fingers and felt her do the same to mine. We squirmed together, eyes locked, and together we stared into each other's flushed faces as we stroked each other to a climax.

Afterwards we lay there in the grass and cuddled. I was flat on my back, staring up at the clouds. The sky was perfectly grey and a flock of birds was circling up there, very high, very small.

I had my arm around her and I was still very shaken by what had happened. Technically, I guess you could say it was only a quickie, but emotionally it was so much more. I had never felt passion like that before.

But there still seemed to be something missing. I wasn't sure what it was, but the butterflies were still restless in my stomach, and I knew there was something I was supposed to say, something I was supposed to tell her. I had told her I loved her, but was that enough? Did she really understand how much?

"Alice?" I whispered.

Her head was resting against my shoulder, eyes closed, almost asleep. "Mm?"

I hesitated for a second, and then decided to confess all. This was the woman I wanted to be with forever, and I wanted her to know that.

"I really do love you," I said. "I know that I've…had trouble coming to terms with all this. But I knew it as soon as I saw you. That day in the coffeeshop. When you walked in. I took one look at you, and…I fell in love with you. It took me a while to admit it, but it's true. I loved you from the first second I saw you. I've been wanting to tell you every day. You mean more to me than…anything."

She had raised up on an elbow. Her pretty face was looking down at me and I felt my heart ache with love. I blinked up her, almost crying again, and tried to smile.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to adjust," I said, "and I know I'm not fully there yet, but…I want you to know. I love you. I really do."

She blinked once and two tears dripped onto my coat. A watery smile spread across her perfect mouth and she bit her lip, as if I had just said everything she wanted to hear.

"Oh baby," she said. "I love you too."

And then she kissed me.

—

Chapter 30:

—

If life was a fairytale, my happily ever after would've began right after Thanksgiving. But life isn't a fairytale, and I still had to tell my parents I'm gay.

Alice was very supportive, as could be expected of a loving girlfriend, and after talking it over we decided to tell my dad first. He lived much closer than my mom, in a small town called Forks, a six hour drive just north of Seattle. It also made sense from a tactical standpoint. As far as I can tell, men seem more cordially disposed toward lesbians than women, even if the lesbian in question was their own daughter. I hoped so, at least.

We were cruising down the highway, me driving and the pixie in the passenger seat. At first we chatted, but we found less and less things to say as we got closer to Forks. Probably my fault. A semi-trailer was coming down the road from the opposite direction and I watched it go by, only slightly sad that the slippery roads didn't cause some fiery collision. I know that coming out to your parents isn't technically a fate worse than death, but at the moment it did seem like it. The silence grew until the pixie noticed me sigh. She gave me a smile and asked,

"Nervous, baby?"

That was one way to put it. Another way would be violently nauseous.

"A little," I admitted. "I mean, I know he's not gonna disown me but that doesn't really make it easier. You know?"

She nodded understandingly. We had already talked about it and she had explained the best way to go about it, what to say and what not to say, citing examples and quoting gay books from memory like a lesbian sage. She was very knowledgeable about all this stuff.

"I know," she said, and patted my arm. "But we talked about this, remember? I'll be here the whole time."

I nodded, and flashed her a smile while driving. I was very grateful to have her with me, but so far I hadn't been comfortable enough to really thank her. But we were getting closer, so I decided to give it a shot.

"Thanks, Alice," I said. "For coming down here with me. It really means a lot."

It didn't quite communicate how vital her presence was in staving off a break down, but it was the best I could do. Thankfully, it seemed to touch her.

"Don't be silly," she said in a gooey voice. "I love you, remember?"

I grinned. Ever since we had Confessed Our Feelings at her parents' house, we hadn't been able to shut up about it. We told each other we love each other every chance we got and every time it gave me a warmth flash of _oh-fuck-I-love-her._

"I love you too," I told her.

She smiled and then gave my knee a pat. "Besides," she said, "even if we were only friends I'd be here to support you. I know how hard it can be. I was there when Leah told her parents. They didn't take it well. Compared to that, this should be fun. From how you talk about your father, I'm sure he'll love to learn something new about you."

I nodded, wondering if that was actually true. Dad was a weird one, much like me. Never nosey but always interested. When I was growing up he never made me feel any aspect of my life was unimportant.

"Maybe," I agree tentatively.

"Just remember," she went on, "the key thing in these situations is dignity. You can't control your father, but you can control yourself. You need to respect him enough to realize this may be a big deal for him and you need to be understanding enough to realize that it might take time for him to fully accept you. You have to look at it from his perspective. All parents have dreams for their children. Family, marriage, grandkids. But when you tell them you're gay, all those dreams are changed. Everything seems different. Sometimes they need time to adjust."

I nodded again; this was more of her gay wisdom. I was really lucky to have a girlfriend who took her orientation seriously. It scared me to think what it would be like to go through all this without her.

"So don't be nervous, okay?" she said. "I'm gonna be right there with you."

I loved how she kept reminding me. Made me feel warm.

"Thank you, Alice," I said, giving her a quick smile. "I love you."

She returned the smile and put her hand on my knee. "I love you too, baby."

I maintained eye contact for a moment, but eventually I had to turned them back to the road. But my heart was beating quickly and I kept glancing at her. We had fallen silent for a few seconds, but neither of us could stop smiling. The _I love yous_ were hanging in the air and it would've been great to—

"Shame you're driving," she said. "That would've been such a makeout moment."

I laughed and she started giggling.

It was about an hour later when we entered town and I made the turn into my old neighborhood. Forks was a lot like Seattle, except smaller, shabbier, more depressing. The houses were old and cheap, the lawns dead. The blinds drawn. It wasn't the nicest place in the world to settle down and raise a family. Probably why my mom filed for divorce and got the fuck out of there.

My dad loved it, though. He loved the hunting, the fishing, his work, his friends. He had a nice small town life. Good for him, I guess.

Minutes later we pulled up in the driving way of my old home. The place I had grown up in. I couldn't remember how old I had been when I left this place with my mom, but it didn't seem important. I put the car in park and turned off the engine. Alice was watching me and when I looked at her she gave me an encouraging smile. I managed a weak smile in return, and then I sighed and got out the car.

We had called ahead from Seattle, so he was expecting us. I told him I had some news that I wanted to tell him in person and that I was bringing a "friend." He had been a little confused at why I needed to bring a friend, but I was rather evasive on that topic, as one could imagine.

He answered the door after I knocked and he looked the same as he always did. Dark haired like me, but short and shaggy. He wore a mustache and a bit of stubble. When he saw me he smiled, but he didn't seem overjoyed to see me. Fair enough. To dad, family had always been more of a duty than a blessing, and I kind of agreed with him.

"Hey, Bells," he said. "Nice to see you. Been a while."

I smiled at his greeting. I could've predicted those exact words.

"Hey dad," I said, and gave him a quick hug. "Good to see you too."

Alice watched the reunion with a bright smile and as I let go of my dad I turned to her, feeling my stomach lurch with nervousness. I wasn't going to tell him on the doorstep, but somehow I felt like it was obvious, that he'd take one look at her and know exactly what she meant to me.

"This is Alice," I said. "My friend I told you about on the phone?"

He nodded at her, and you could see in his smile that he was already slightly suspicious of this woman's role in his daughter's life. A colleague? A lawyer? A lesbian lover, perhaps? Well, one of them was true.

"Hi, there," he said.

Alice smiled her wonderful smile. "Hi," she said. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Swan."

He shook off the 'mister' and chuckled. "Charlie, Charlie, call me Charlie," he said. Then he sighed and held open the door. "Well, I guess you better come in. Excuse the place, it's a little messy."

We went in and I had a strange feeling of nostalgia. I wasn't sure if it was exactly the same as when I was a kid, but it was close enough. Same shabby couch, same shabby carpet. A smell of dust in the air and a distinct lack of sunlight. There was a phone on a sidetable and I was shocked that it actually had a cord. I just hoped he wasn't as old fashioned with his attitude about relationships as he was with his technology.

My dad led us in to the kitchen and asked,

"You gals want coffee?"

"Uh, sure dad," I said. "Thanks."

Alice turned to me and mouthed, _Gals?_

I gave her a smile, but I had a niggle of anxiety. Now that I thought about it, my dad had never been what you'd call a feminist. He was a great guy and all, but part of his problem with mom was that he just didn't understand women. When he married her, he kind of just married her and expected her to be happy just being married. He never realized that women like to be loved and understood and included in their partner's life.

From the memories I could remember, he suddenly seemed very traditional. In his mind, women were probably either wives or mothers or waiting to be a wife or mother. Would he really approve of his daughter's decision to forfeit any kind of man in her life?

I didn't know, but I was getting worried again. Alice and I had sat down at the kitchen table while he got the coffee machine going. I sat straight up with my purse in my lap, nervous like a first day in school. The house was heated but my hands were freezing from how nervous I was about what I was about to do.

But not yet.

"So," I said, hoping to delay the inevitable. "What's new with you, dad?"

"Aww, not much," he said. "Getting older."

"You're not even fifty, dad."

"Well, you're as young as you feel. Sugar?"

"Just sweetener."

"What about your little friend there?"

"Just sweetener for me too, thanks," Alice said politely.

He nodded and stirred in the sweeter. He put the two mugs on the table, one for me, one for the pixie. There was a window over the sink with lace curtains I recognized from my childhood. They were yellow from dust and grease – they probably hadn't been cleaned since mom left.

The coffee machine only made two cups at a time, so he refilled it and got it percolating and came back over to the table and sat down with a groan of effort.

"What about you, Bells?" he said. "What's this news you wanted to tell me? You got me worried."

Shit. Moment of truth.

Alice gave me an encouraging look, so I figured this was a good time. I wanted so badly to chicken out, but at the same time I knew I'd feel better when it was done and over. So I took a breath, remembered Alice's coaching, and began.

"Actually, um…it's kind of a big deal. Before I tell you I need you to keep an open mind and promise not to overreact. It might be difficult to hear."

"Jesus, Bells, are you okay? It's nothing medical, is it?"

I chuckled awkwardly. "No, no, it's nothing like that," I said, which was true, unless it was actually possible to die from nervousness. "It's just…"

I looked at Alice. She was biting her lip, as if she thought it was just a little funny. Strangely, I found it encouraging. She didn't know my dad at all, but she must have a good feeling if she was smiling about it.

He saw the look we shared and frowned. He wasn't a theatrical man and the drama seem to annoy him a little. "Well?" he said. "What is it?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I wouldn't look at him. I was holding the coffeecup with both hands and I could feel the heat seep through the ceramic. But my hands were still freezing.

I looked at Alice. Her face had gone serious and she gave me a nod. Her hand was sitting there on the table, ready for me to take. We had planned that as well. So there would be no misunderstandings.

"Alright," I said, feeling my heart drop into my stomach. "The truth is…"

I reached and took Alice's hand. It was as cold as mine, but it warmed me more than anything else had. I caressed it, smiled at her, and turned back to dad with tears of uncertainty prickling my eyes. His mouth had already dropped open.

"I told you on the phone that Alice was my friend," I said, "but the truth is…she's my girlfriend. I'm a lesbian."

The coffee machine started gurgling. No one seemed to notice. Waves of icy cold shock were rolling over me, and I could only imagine how Charlie felt. He had gone visibly pale and he was looking at our clasped hands and looking at me and looking at Alice. When he swallowed I could see the lump go down. The coffee machine was still gurgling and after a few seconds he got up, poured himself a cup, added four teaspoons of sugar, and came back to the table.

At first he didn't speak, he just stirred his cup. Then he sighed and tapped the spoon on the side of the mug. He was frowning, but it wasn't a frown of disapproval, more like the frown of a man who realizes he has unexpected chores today.

"Yeah," he said. His voice came out a little croaky. He cleared his throat. "Well, uh…"

"It's okay," I said, not even wanting him to speak. I let go of Alice's hand and put them in my lap. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know."

He cleared his throat again and shrugged, visibly loosening up. "Well, Bells, it's kind of a shock," he said. "I always kind of suspected, but…"

My stomach twisted.

"Suspected?" I meeped. Somehow that seemed even worse than confessing.

"Well, yeah," he said. "Back when you were a kid. I noticed a few things."

Alice smiled, the only person in the room who wasn't completely stunned.

"Like what?" she asked. "What kind of things?"

Charlie looked surprised that she had spoken to him. As if he hadn't been aware she was an actual person, as if he had assumed she was only some kind of prop for the confession scene.

"Well, she was never all that crazy about boys," he said. "And then there was this new girl in her class. Wouldn't stop talking about her for a week. Then she grew up and started playing softball. Had a crush on the lady coach, I think. But I never thought she was actually…"

He shook his head, trailing off. As if he couldn't believe it, didn't want to say it. By now I had loosened up a little too, and I was able to smile slightly at his reaction.

"Are you cool with it?" I asked.

This perked him up, and he held up a hand almost defensively, as if I had already began accusing him of not accepting me. "Hey, it's none of my business," he said. "It's your life, kid. You do what you want with it. I raised you best I could. The rest is on you."

I smiled, actually feeling my fear wash away. I hadn't been expecting an overwhelming outpouring of love and support, and I didn't really want it. This was perfect.

I got up from my chair and gave him a hug.

"Thanks, dad," I said, holding him for a moment. "It means a lot to me."

He patted my arm awkwardly. Alice was so touched by the scene that she hopped up as well and joined in the hug.

"Thank you, Mr Swan," she said. "Bella was so nervous about today."

My father had never been an affectionate man. Getting hugged by his daughter was bad enough, but getting hugged by a complete—and adorable—stranger was worse. So he cleared his throat and started rising from his chair, forcing us to release him and back away. We exchanged a smile at his shyness and he picked up his coffeecup and bought it to the counter as an excuse to get up.

"Yeah, well," he said. "I was never in the habit of judging people, I guess. Anyway. I guess you girls better be heading home if you wanna beat the traffic. Nice seeing you, though."

Alice looked shocked, but I had to smile. He really was the best dad, offering us a way out so early. Spending the bulk of his life with a difficult wife and a sullen daughter had made him slightly weary of women, I think. I wondered if he was even curious about how his daughter had gone gay and how she handled it and how much she loved her new girlfriend?

"Already?" Alice said in a pouty voice. "I thought we were staying for dinner?"

That was the plan we had made on the phone, and now that the initial awkwardness was over, I actually did want to stay a while. It would be poor manners to drop in on your dad, tell him your gay, and then not even stay for dinner.

"Come on, dad," I said. "I haven't seen you in ages."

He sighed. "Well…"

"Hey, I got a great idea!" Alice chirped. "Why don't I run and get some groceries and then we can make something special? Meanwhile, you two can have some time alone."

"No, no, no, I don't want you girls going to any trouble—"

"I insist," Alice said, and she was so enveloped in her role as The Sweetest Girlfriend Alive that she actually kissed him on the cheek, much to his embarrassment. She then grabbed my purse with my car keys in it, kissed me on the lips quickly, and gave me a wink. "I'll be back soon."

I blushed at being kissed in front of my dad, and he was suddenly very engrossed in looking out the window. We heard the front door open and close. Then we were alone.

It was absolutely silent in the dim little kitchen. I was standing by the table, he was leaning back against the counter. I didn't know what to say, but that was really nothing new with my dad, gay or not. It was going to take some witty remark to break the new layer of ice that was quickly forming, but I had nothing.

Charlie was looking at the kitchen floor and he shook his head at something. Then he looked up in the direction where the pixie had disappeared and shook his head again. A mild flush was lingering on his face. He cleared his throat and noticed me standing there. I tried to smile. He smiled back, shook his head, and then nodded at where my girlfriend had disappeared.

"Cute girl," he said.

A small giggle gushed out of me.

"Yeah," I agreed.

Pretty soon me and my dad were sitting at the kitchen table once again, each with our cups of coffee, and he listened as I told him the story. I told him how my best friend Jess had set me up with her as a joke, but also because she suspected I might be secretly gay. I told him how I bumped into her at the Halloween party and how gorgeous her costume was. I told him how I couldn't stop thinking about her for days and days, weeks, until finally I had to call her.

He listened and nodded and sipped his coffee, frowning at any mention of affection between me and another woman. And I was keeping it PG, too. I never mentioned the insane sexual pull I felt toward her, and I certainly didn't mention how she had practically screwed the straight out of me. Men were weird about lesbians, dad or not. We were both adults, but it was bound to be a little awkward. It didn't help that in the minds of most men lesbians are synonymous with pornography. I could've explained that I wasn't the type of girl to even hold hands in public let alone eat pussy in front of a camera, but that might've been a little uncomfortable for conversation over coffee.

Mostly he took it well, although at one point he did ask if maybe it was just a phase or an experiment. To his credit, though, he wasn't disappointed when I told him this was probably forever. Not just this, but Alice as well. I told him that Alice was my One, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. He nodded at that and even smiled, but he didn't seem particularly convinced. He knew from personal experience how tricky women could be, and he probably didn't think two of them together had any great odds.

Alice arrived with the groceries as I was winding up with my story, and we set about making a nice paella with rice. It was a simple dish, but he looked on with disapproval as me and the pixie hustled about the kitchen, refusing to let him help. He grumbled that he had been cooking for himself for years, but from the contents of his cupboards, I didn't think heating up a can of soup could really be called cooking.

The three of us sat down to eat just as it was getting dark. Charlie must've been exhausted from such a long visit, but he listened patiently and with interest as Alice gave him her side of the story, babbling away with her infectious excitement. She told him anecdotes of my denial and how obvious it was that I was so into her. She even made him laugh a few times, and my dad was not a guy who laughed often.

It was still kind of early after we'd eaten, but it was a long drive back to the city. Dad walked us out and stood in the doorway to say goodbye. It had been a very successful visit and neither of us had to fake smiles. It was hard to believe the pixie had been right – coming out to my dad really had bought us closer.

"Okay, you girl's drive safely," he said. "Come back anytime."

I nodded, but before I left there was one final thing I wanted to hear. He was obviously cool with the fact I was gay, but I needed to know if he actually approved. We were standing under the yellow porchlight in the cold night air and I gave him a look that was maybe a little vulnerable.

"Are you really okay with all this, dad?" I asked, butterflies beginning to flutter in my stomach. "It's okay if you're not, I'll understand. I just need to know."

He chuckled once. "You're a grown woman, Bells," he said. "You don't need my approval."

"No," I said. Then I gave him a coy smirk. "But it would be pretty cool to have."

I hated to put him on the spot, but I never claimed not to be a selfish daughter. He smiled and looked at the ground. Alice was standing by with a smile of her own, wrapped in her coat. Charlie gathered his thoughts and sighed.

"Well," he said. "I'll tell you I'm proud of you. It takes a strong person to follow their heart even when their own parents might not approve. So, yeah. I'm proud of you. Is that okay?"

I nodded and put my arms around him. "Thanks, dad."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, patting my back. "Have you told your mom yet?"

I shook my head, still holding him. "Not yet."

"Well, I don't envy you when you do."

"Me neither," I said, dreading it already.

He took a breath and pushed me away gently. "Well," he said. "If you want me to be there when you tell her, you just let me know. You'll always have my support."

"What about love?" Alice chimed. "You gotta love her, too."

She had noticed he hadn't said he loved me yet, and to be honest, I'd noticed too. I looked at him expectantly. He chuckled and shuffled his feet shyly.

"Yeah, well, that too," he said, still not saying it. Typical guy. He then lifted his smile at Alice and pointed at her playfully. "Me and you need to get together and have a talk sometime, missy. Gotta make sure you're the right one for my daughter."

"She is, dad," I told him. "I love her."

I wrapped my arm around Alice and Alice put a big kiss on my cheek.

"And I love her even more," she said.

Charlie frowned and glanced down the dark street anxiously. "Well, let's not get carried away with the love," he said. "The neighbors talk."

Alice giggled and I gave him one last hug.

"I'll call you soon," I said. "We'll get together for Christmas."

"I think I'm working Christmas. You just have fun with your girlfriend there."

"Dad…"

"Go on, go on," he urged, waving us off toward the car. "It's cold out here."

I sighed and looked at him for a moment under the yellow glow of the porchlight. My dad. Married too early, divorced, never married again. It was sad how he never really found happiness, but it didn't seem to bother him. I always thought I was the same, that I could be perfectly happy being alone for the rest of my life. But then I met Alice. I wished I could've been a better daughter and kept him in my life somehow, but I guess all I could do was try harder from now on.

"Love you, dad," I said.

He nodded gruffly. "Love you too, Bells."

I smiled that he finally said it, and Alice gave him a wave. He waved back and watched as we crossed the lawn and got into the car. He still was standing in the doorway watching when we pulled away from the curb and drove away into the night.

Alice was driving on the way back and at first we were quiet. I settled back in my seat and replayed the day in my head, watching the houses blur by in the night outside, still somewhat shocked at how different it had been compared to my worst fears. I was emotionally exhausted and the anxiety seemed to have seeped into my bones, but all in all, I think I felt good.

"Well," Alice said at last. "That went pretty great, didn't it? Told you you'd be fine. How do you feel?"

"Good," I said. She glanced at me and I gave her a smile. "Really good, I think."

"Great," she said. "Now we only have to worry about your mother."

My heart sank a little at that and I really didn't want to ruin my glow by thinking about it. "Yeah, um, do you think we could delay that till after the holidays? I mean, it's not important we do it right now."

"What if she wants to see you for the holidays?"

I hoped not. In some ways, I wouldn't mind not seeing her ever again. Sure, she gave birth to me and raised me and put food in my mouth, but really. The woman was horrid.

"If she does, we'll talk about it," I said. "But let's just forget it for now, okay?"

She seemed to understand. "Okay," she said. "And just so you know, I'm really proud of you. You handled yourself perfectly."

I smiled, even though I didn't deserve any compliments. All things considered, dad was a total cakewalk. It was my mother that terrified me. But I gave my pixie a smile, leaned across the gearshift, and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks," I said. "I love you, Alice."

I made my voice as gooey as possible, and she giggled so cutely it made me horny.

"Love you too, baby," she said.

It just sucked she was driving.

—

Chapter 31:

—

The following week was the holiday party at the publishing house. I didn't want to go. Alice had derby practice on the same night and if I couldn't go with Alice then what was the fucking point?

Unfortunately, Alice and Angela didn't see it this way. They ganged up on me over lunch and forced me to agree to go, somehow convinced that I was only refusing in order to be a gentleman to Alice. Apparently they didn't hear me when I said I hate dancing, I hate parties, and I hate getting all dressed up for events I hate going to. The only reason I agreed at all was because Alice promised to finish up practice as quickly as possible and meet me there. She even offered to skip practice, but I knew how much her derby meant to her, and if I wasn't allowed to skip the party then no way is she allowed to skip practice.

Angela's tactics were less effective. She tried to sway me by mentioning right in front of Alice that her perfect Mr Masen had specifically asked if I would be there, but this only made me want to slap her. She played it off as a joke and then—just to be polite—she gave my girlfriend a quick recap of my dating history with her boss, still pretending to be joking. Alice was slightly disturbed to learn that there was a handsome billionaire out there who continued to pine for her newly lesbian girlfriend, but she was poised enough to likewise play it off as a joke. She joked that maybe she shouldn't let me go to the party after all, but I didn't have the tact to continue the charade – I told Angela to shut the fuck up about her Mr Masen and if she likes him so much why doesn't she date him? Angela replied that she was married and I countered that I was gay. But my _former_ best friend still didn't seem overly convinced on that.

Besides, it was probably bullshit. How could I actually believe the guy still had feelings for me? It had been months since we dated, and it's not like we had anything deep or meaningful. I would have to be the most egotistical woman in the world to believe that a guy like him could possibly remain interested in little old me for so long. He probably doesn't even remember my name.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

Two nights before the party there was a knock on the door. Alice and I were watching TV, and after I answered the door, I came wandering back to the sofa with a slim white box and a red rose on top that had been expressed delivered via courier. Inside the box was an expensive black dress nestled on a bed of lavender tissue paper and a card that said:

 _Bella,_

 _Wear this to the party_

 _Edward_

Alice had read the card out loud and then she lowered it and looked at me as if she found out I liked to kill small animals as a hobby. I sputtered out a defense and after a while she turned her ire to the dress. I do admit I felt a slight flicker at the gesture, but hopefully that was just anger or confusion. I told her he was probably only trying to be nice, since that's the only thing that seemed plausible. Maybe we were getting the wrong impression? She grudgingly agreed and suggested I should probably send it back so he doesn't get the wrong impression either. I nodded hastily and packed the dress back into the box.

That night I had a dream where I was having sex with him. It had the tone of a nightmare, and when I woke up I was dry aside from perspiration. All the same, I decided not to mention it to Alice.

The party was held in the penthouse of Masen Plaza, the building where the publishing offices were located. The boss had spared no expense, and since it had been a good year for the company—a turnaround year—the affair was especially lavish.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened upon a ballroom filled with people in dresses an tuxedos. A servant in a white coat came forward and offered me champagne as I stepped out. I thanked him and he sailed off with the tray in search of more thirsty guests. A classical orchestra was playing Christmas carols and I was already very uncomfortable. The dress I was wearing was nowhere near as expensive as the one that had arrived in the mail, but it was black and sexy and it only took one sweep of the room to set myself at ease that I looked okay.

For a few moments I lingered around the elevator, wondering why the fuck I had even bothered to come. The only person I knew here was Angela and I was beginning to hate the bitch. Not to mention there was a high probability of bumping into my not so secret admirer.

Nevertheless, it would be a while before the pixie arrived, and talking to Angela couldn't be more painful than listening to Jingle Bells on a violin. Eventually I spotted her in the crowd and went over. She was with her husband, a uncomfortable-looking guy in a tuxedo called Ben. I sympathized with him and I was glad to have him around. Angela couldn't about talk her precious Mr Masen with Ben around, but of course Ben didn't stay around forever. Eventually he had to go to the bathroom and Angela wasted no time, spinning to me with an excited smile and her champagne glass in both hands.

"So," she said, as if we were already midway through a conversation. "Is that the dress he sent you?"

I frowned at her. "How'd you know about that?"

"He asked me your size the other day," she said excitedly. "I told him you love black, that you never wear anything else."

I blinked. Was this bitch serious?

"And you didn't think to tell him that I have a girlfriend and it might be inappropriate to send me gifts?" I demanded. "Alice was there when I opened it up, Ange. She was furious."

"Jeez, she must get jealous easily."

" _Easily_?"

"What's all the fuss about anyway? It's not even a great dress."

Okay, now I was pissed. Not only was she conspiring against my girlfriend behind my back, she was also insulting my dress. Was this bitch my best friend or my sworn enemy? I had opened my mouth to reply, but something caught her eye over my shoulder.

"Oh my god, there he is," she almost squealed, putting a hand on my arm as if to keep me from jumping up and down. "You should go say hi."

"Fuck that," I said, sipping my champagne.

Angela looked at me as if I was being rude. "Seriously, Bella?" she said. "You're not even gonna thank him for the dress? What's wrong with you?"

I almost spat the champagne back out. "I'm not wearing it, Ange, for god's sake," I hissed at her quietly. "I sent it back. Why the fuck would I accept a gift like that?"

"Bella," she chided. "How could you do that, you know he likes you."

"I have a girlfriend, Ange."

"God, I wish you never met that woman," Angela muttered, shaking her head. "She's been nothing but a bad influence on you."

"Ange, I'm gonna slap you."

"Wait, wait," Angela whispered excitedly, "he's coming over."

"Oh god," I groaned.

Angela ignored me and grinned. "Come on, Bella," she said, "don't be a bitch okay? This might be your last chance."

"Chance at what?" I blurted. "I don't even—"

But she was glancing over my shoulder and he was getting closer.

"Shit, I better go," she said. "Good luck!"

"Ange…"

I sighed and watched Angela go. Ben was making his reappearance in the ballroom, hitching up his belt and casting a frown across the room as if he'd rather be anywhere else. I felt the same way.

When I turned around, I got a jolt in my chest.

Was he always that cute?

Or am I just nervous?

He was closing in on me where I stood beside a huge potted fern, and he dressed was as usual in a dark suit that flattered his dark eyes. He had a glass of champagne in one hand and his other hand in his pocket. He gave me a smile and I gave him a grudging smile back.

"Good evening, Ms Swan," he said. "May I say you're looking very lovely tonight?"

I snorted and didn't answer.

His smile tilted up into a smirk. He sipped his champagne calmly. "Was the dress I sent you the wrong size?" he asked. "Or did you just not like it?"

"Actually, it was my _girlfriend_ who didn't like it," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "She thought it was a little inappropriate."

This caught him off-guard, and I felt a small sense of triumph as his smirk slipped away.

"Oh," he said. "I see."

Frowning, he glanced across the ballroom at Angela where she was badgering Ben about something. Then he turned back to me, making an effort to replace his smile once again.

"Sorry," he said. "I was under the impression that…"

I could only imagine what Angela had told him, so I waved it away.

"Yeah, it's alright," I said. "Forget about it."

He nodded and chuckled to himself. I nodded too, frowning. There was a weird feeling in my stomach that I was trying to ignore. I'm sure it was just nervousness and discomfort. We stood around in silence for a while and the orchestra moved into a waltz. He glanced over the dancefloor and turned back to me.

"Well," he said. "Would you care to dance?"

"Dance?"

"You're still the most beautiful woman here."

"I'm not much of a dancer."

"I'll let you lead if it would make you more comfortable."

I snorted, but I couldn't help smiling. That was a pretty good one. A bit of gay humor. But I didn't laugh too loud – I didn't want him to think he had a chance.

"Come on," he said, and took my hand. "Your girlfriend will have to forgive me, but I'm afraid I can't resist."

For a second I was actually shocked. The man touches me without my permission? Aren't there laws against that?

There were probably quite a few lawyers in the room, but I didn't have time for a consult. He led me out onto the floor and tugged me into the dance. I was so caught off guard by his boldness that I found myself falling into step without so much as a meep of resistance.

But I did frown. My heart was beating a little too quick for comfort, and I didn't appreciate being dragged onto the dancefloor like a meek little wallflower. I was blushing as well, but I was quite certain it was a blush of anger. Ironic, really. The last time I had seen him I had tried to force myself be attracted to be him, just to see if it was possible. This time, I was deathly afraid of it.

He was smiling at me and leading me through the dance, swaying me to and fro under the huge crystal chandeliers that hung above the ballroom. I only frowned harder.

"You're blushing," he said.

I didn't need him to tell me, I could feel it in my cheeks. I glared at him, but I didn't have any quip ready. How awful. All my life I had prided myself on being a venomous bitch, and yet here I was rendered speechless by…by…

…by what?

"How's things with your girlfriend?" he asked.

The reminder of Alice soothed me somewhat. Alice was the one thing I never had to be confused about. I'm not saying I'm confused now, but—

"Great," I said.

"Just great?"

"What's better than great?"

"Wonderful, fantastic…"

"Things are wonderfully fantastic and no I'm not interested in you," I blurted.

He smiled and fell silent for a moment. I was blushing again. Maybe it wasn't as smooth as I would've liked, but it was true. I wasn't interested in him. Not interested, not attracted, not anything.

"Well," he said. "Can't blame a guy for trying, can you?"

He spun me and pulled me back in. I smiled, despite myself, and decided he really wasn't such an asshole. Just a guy taking a shot. He hadn't really done anything out of line.

"I guess not," I said. "I've had worse, I guess."

He nodded. We kept dancing, my hand in his, his hand at my waist. I glanced at the elevator, wondering when Alice would get here. I didn't want her to see me dancing with some guy, especially not a guy who had bought me a new dress and reportedly still had feelings for me.

Speaking of which, how was that even possible?

"But you're not seriously still into me, are you?" I asked. "I mean, that's just…"

I trailed off. It was a bit of an awkward question. He waited for a moment, sorting his thoughts, and said,

"Do you want me to be honest?"

"Go ahead."

"Then, yes," he said. "I'm still very into you."

A cold feeling washed over me. It had been fairly obvious, but it was still kind of shocking. And maybe a little flattering. This was the kind of guy who could have any girl he wanted. The kind of guy most women would sell their soul for.

And he liked me.

He really liked me.

"Surprised?" he asked.

"Well," I said. "Yeah."

He nodded and danced with me in silence for a few seconds. He was looking at me in a way that made my face blush again and he said,

"When I first saw you in the office that day, I was…fascinated. Ever since then I haven't been able to get you out of my head. I don't think I've ever felt this way about a woman."

I gulped and looked away.

"Shit," I said. "Sucks to be you."

He lowered his eyes and chuckled silently to himself. I watched him and allowed myself a smile. Maybe I should've been angry at him for trying to make a move on me, but I knew from experience how impossible it was to control your feelings. He couldn't change how he felt about me any more than I could change how I felt about Alice.

Alice.

Remembering her made me realize that maybe I did have a right to be a little angry at him. He was entitled to his feelings but I was entitled to mine. My feelings belong to Alice, and I wasn't going to brush them aside to indulge his little crush. So I let my brows gather in a frown and decided to put the poor guy out of his misery.

"Listen," I said firmly. "I'm sorry you like me, but with all due respect, I'm gonna have to ask you to back the fuck off from now on. I don't know what Angela told you, but I'm not available. Ever. Especially not with a guy. I have a girlfriend and I'm very happy with her."

He heard my tone and nodded.

"I understand," he said. "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."

I felt a rush of relief and a little bit of pride. It was good to have that settled. For a second there I had been afraid that part of me might actually like him, but I was certain now. I didn't. Never would.

He seemed to know it too. We had stopped dancing and he looked like he was going to take his leave. But before he left, he went to kiss me on the cheek. I could see it coming, and I decided to allow it. Even if I would never like him, it was kind of romantic. Maybe–

The kiss landed on my lips.

I felt a hot blush rise in my cheeks and I ground my teeth together. I was tempted to rip his nuts off right there on the dancefloor, but it was just a little kiss. It didn't mean anything. A quick kiss goodbye, something to remember me by. Nothing to worry about, nothing at all. Completely harmless. Even if Alice had seen it, it didn't—

Oh fuck.

The moment our lips touched I had swung my eyes aside. And there, just exiting the elevator in a blue dress with a blue purse, was Alice.

She had been standing just outside the elevator, looking about and smiling at the pretty party. Her eyes swept over the dancefloor and then she saw us, standing among the couples with his hands at my waist and his lips on mine. My heart broke at how her smile slipped away so sadly and for a second she looked like she wanted to throw up.

So did I.

—

Chapter 32:

—

 _Fuck._

It was the one thought that passed through my head. It was pretty much the worst case scenario, far worse than any other relationship boo boo I'd committed or even heard of. When your boyfriend sees you kissing another guy, you're in trouble. But what happens when your vulnerable, jealous, deeply hetrophobic girlfriend witnesses you in contact with the lips of a handsome billionaire with whom you have sexual history with and who two nights earlier sent you an expensive dress and a red rose? I didn't know, but the bad feeling that bloomed in my stomach was almost evil in intensity.

I wrenched my lips away from his and started wiping at them with my hand. "Aww, fuck," I said, and spat on the dancefloor. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

People were looking. Edward chuckled at the unladylike display and asked, "What's the matter?"

"My girlfriend," I said, tossing an anxious look at the pixie as I wiped my mouth. "Is that perfect timing or what? She walks in just in time to see that. Jesus Christ. Am I cursed? Is there a hex over my head? Because this is just—"

I slapped him. I should've done it sooner, but I had been too shocked. It caught him with a nice stinging sound and an old lady gasped as she danced by with an elderly husband. Edward touched his cheek, trying not to smile.

"Good thinking," he said. "A little late, though."

Oh god I hoped not

Thankfully, Alice had at least scene the slap. Her face was composed in a stone mask and she was making her way over with her pretty brow set in a dark frown. I wanted to cry.

"Hi, baby," she said coldly. "Surprised I made it?"

I gave her a sickly smile. "Of course not, I was waiting for you."

"Yeah, I saw," she said, and then turned her death glare to Edward.

The look might've been intended to actually kill him, but she was too small and sexy to really pull it off. He was still standing there, but he didn't seem to be in as much pain as I was. He seemed almost amused. The three of us were standing in the middle of the dancefloor with the other couples dancing all around us, glancing at us in disapproval. He looked about at the other dancers and then turned his smile to Alice.

"Well," he said. "I'll let you cut in."

He then gave me one last look and took his leave, withdrawing across the dancefloor with his head slightly lowered and without a backwards glance.

Hopefully I'd never see him again.

Alice watched him go and then turned to me. Now that he was gone, her eyes were less murderous and more wounded. We were still getting disapproving looks from the other couples, and without really thinking, I took her hand and started dancing with her. But if anything, this only drew more attention and made the knots in my stomach even tighter.

Alice noticed my anxiousness at dancing with her in public and her frown went darker.

"So," Alice said, as we swayed to the sounds of a violin. "What the fuck was that all about?"

Her tone terrified me, but I chuckled weakly. "Alice, come on," I said. "Are you seriously gonna get mad before I have a chance to explain? Do you honestly think that was what it looked like?"

"Fuck's sake Bella," she hissed, "you fucking kissed him."

"No I didn't, he just—"

"Fucking hell, do you like him?"

"N-no!" I stammered, hardly believing she could even ask me that. "Of course not!"

But she didn't even seem to hear me. She was more angry than I'd ever seen her, but it was cold anger, not the hurt wounded anger that I would've expected.

"Look, just fucking be honest," she went on, her voice brutally hard. "If you're having second thoughts about this tell me now, because I'm not going through this shit again. I'm sick of holding my breath in a relationship and waiting for some stupid bitch to realize if she is or she isn't, so just—"

"Alice, please," I said, shocked at the outburst. "Calm down."

Alice looked aside and took a shaky breath. We were still dancing and her hand was squeezing mine so hard it was painful. She blinked a few times and when she turned her eyes back to mine they were shiny. But still very angry.

"Listen," I said, frantically trying to organize an explanation in my brain. "He didn't know I had a girlfriend, that's why he sent the dress. Angela lied to him or something, I'll kill her later. Before you arrived, I was telling him that I'll never be interested in him. He only kissed me to say goodbye or something or because he's an asshole. I don't know why he did it, but it didn't mean anything. Okay?"

I made my voice imploring and watched her face. She blinked her sparkly eyes a few times with her long eyelashes and my heart ached at how pretty she was. Pretty and angry and hurt and sad.

"I saw your face," she whispered.

I didn't even know what she meant by that, but I finally felt a spark of indignation.

"Seriously, Alice?" I said. "You saw my face? Did you see me spitting and wiping my mouth or did you miss that? I mean, do you even trust me at all, or is this the kind of thing I can expect even when—"

I broke off. I was about to say even when we're married, but I managed to stop myself. A hot blush engulfed my face and I looked down to try and conceal it.

"I'm sorry," she said, finally calming down a little. "I just…"

I nodded. People were looking at us and one old woman was shaking her head in disgust. I was already upset, but that was enough to outright piss me off. What the fuck were we even dancing for anyway?

"I'm sorry too," I said, dropping her hand. "Look, it was a to mistake come here. Let's just go home, okay?"

I had expected her to agree with me. Obviously, a dancefloor wasn't the appropriate place to have a discussion like this. But for some reason the suggestion made her face go hard again.

"Why?" she demanded. "Are you embarrassed to dance with me? You were fine dancing with _him_. No problems kissing _him_ in public, right?"

That was so unfair I couldn't even respond. Alice looked at my stunned face and snorted.

"Forget it," she said, "let's go."

Then she turned and stalked off the dancefloor. I watched her go and looked across the ballroom. Angela was standing with her husband and a small plate in her hands. She looked guilty and a little worried, as if she knew she had done something wrong but wasn't sure how bad it was. I ignored her and hurried to catch up with Alice.

We drove home in silence. Alice wasn't speaking to me and I felt too much like a big piece of shit to think of anything to say.

I kept wondering whose fault it was. Was it my fault for not evading the kiss? No, because I thought it was just on the cheek. And even on the lips, it was really no big deal. So then was it Alice's fault for blowing it all out of proportion? No, because she was my girlfriend and of course she had a right to be upset. Was it Edward's fault for actually doing it? Was it Angela's fault for encouraging him? Or was it all just one big misunderstanding?

Every few seconds I'd glance at her as I drove and feel a pang in my heart. It didn't matter whose fault it was. What mattered was that Alice was upset and I had to fix that somehow.

But how?

Shamefully, my first thought was sex. Ever since I started dating a girl I seemed to have been slowly mutating into a guy, and now more than ever I felt like a clueless dude. I knew there was something I was supposed to say, some explanation that would set her at ease and remind her that she was the only person for me. But weirdly all I could think about was sex. It probably wasn't the best time to get horny, but I couldn't help it. She was staring down at her lap and it simply amazed me how cute she was. In her blue dress, all quiet and sad. I really felt I could cheer her up with a nice fuck.

But at least I wasn't stupid enough to actually suggest that. I was even smart enough to drive her back to her own apartment, knowing that she probably didn't want to be around me tonight. We would probably talk about it tomorrow, and I guess that was okay. There was no way in hell we were breaking up over this. This was just a bad night, that's all.

It wasn't even midnight when I pulled up outside her apartment building and stopped the engine. She looked out the window and then she sighed and turned to me.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said. "I didn't mean to freak out on you like that."

My heart flowered with hope. We were making up already?

"It's alright," I told her. "I know what it must've looked like."

I should've left it at that, but I felt that little flicker of indignation flare up again. Not at her, but at the situation itself. It really was very unfair. So I made my voice gentle and tried to smile.

"I just wish you had more faith in me," I said. "You don't really believe I wanted to kiss him, do you? You're everything to me, I told you that."

She gave me a smile. A very weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I know," she said. "It just scares me, that's all."

"What scares you?"

She sighed and gestured with her hand, lifting it and letting it fall in her lap. "That this might all be nothing," she said. "That maybe it's just a phase. That any day you might realize that this isn't you. That as real as all this feels, it might just…"

She trailed off, shaking her head.

"Alice, come on," I said. "I thought we were past all that?"

I smiled and put a hand on her knee and jostled it playfully. It wasn't the most elegant way to soothe one's girlfriend, but it least bought a smile. It was still a somewhat sad smile, but it was better than her angry glare.

"Seriously, Bella," she said. "I worry about this stuff. I've told you before, sometimes it can last for years. And it's not just you either. I mean, what about me? Who says I'm going to be gay for the rest of my life?"

I raised my eyebrows. Honestly, I couldn't even picture a straight Alice. Who would want to? She seemed to be stretching the paranoia a little far to be plausible, but she seemed to be perfectly serious.

"It feels like I will be," she went on, "but do you know how many articles I've seen about this shit? About women who used to be lesbians and then got married and had kids and bragged about it like it's some kind of fucking achievement? I've even seen it in someone I was dating."

She was getting angry again, and I felt my heart sink a little. The anger wasn't directed at me, but I didn't want her to be angry.

"Alice, this is real for me," I said, not knowing what else to say. "YOU are real for me."

I said it firmly and I meant it. I truly did not have any second thoughts at all anymore, not about her, not about me, not about my newfound love for boobs and eating pussy. I had even come out to my dad.

But despite all this, she still didn't seem convinced.

"I know," she said, "but…"

"But what?" I asked, wanting to understand.

She looked at me. She paused for a moment, as if wondering if I'd even be able to understand, and then she shrugged and sighed.

"It only feels real to you because it's new to you," she said. "You keep telling me that you've never felt this way about anyone else, but that's only because I'm a woman and it's different. It's not like that for me. I've felt this way about all my girlfriends. I never dated anyone I didn't love, and where are they now? Do you see? Even if you love someone, it's no guarantee. It's almost like it doesn't even matter."

She was looking down at her lap again and I felt tears prickle my eyes. I reached over and put my hand over hers.

"You really let this stuff bother you, don't you?"

Still without looking at me, she snorted a small and sad chuckle.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I saw you with that guy, and it was like…"

She sighed and finally lifted her eyes to mine.

"I mean, you can't deny that your life would be a million times easier if you were with him instead of me," she said, not angry, just stating a fact. "Everything would be so much simpler. No one would stare at you, no one would judge you, you'd be able to introduce him to your parents without almost vomiting from nervousness. You'd have a perfect wedding, and naturally born children, and a rich husband who'd take care of you. I mean, admit it. Even if it was just the smallest flicker of attraction, you'd dump me in a heartbeat. Wouldn't you?"

Possibly there was some truth to that. I am, after all, human, and not even a particularly strong or noble one. Going gay hadn't been the smoothest transition, and I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't have done anything to stop it. Hell, I even slept with the guy to try and stave it off.

So maybe she had a point. But at the moment I didn't see it.

"That's bullshit, Alice," I said heatedly. "How could you even think I'd ever dump you?"

I was actually a bit hurt, but she smiled, finally lightening up.

"Sorry," she said. "But you gotta admit, you'd be an idiot not to. Hell, even I'd date the bastard."

I was glad she was feeling better enough to make a joke, but I was still a little upset at her lack of faith in me.

"Alice, seriously," I said. "I don't care about money or approval or any of that crap anymore. I'm comfortable like this. I'm happy like this. Okay?"

I took her hand and squeezed it. She smiled at it and patted it with her other hand.

"Okay," she said. "I trust you, baby, really I do. I just wish I hadn't seen you dancing with that guy, that's all."

Me too. I couldn't believe I had let him walk me out onto the dancefloor and dance with me. Don't I have any backbone at all? Alice deserved an apology, so I left my hand on hers and gave it another squeeze.

"Well, listen," I said. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll promise never to dance with a guy ever again, okay? Not even with my dad on our wedding da—"

I broke off, but it was a little late this time.

Alice was looking down at my hand and now she froze. Then she looked at me and a tiny smirk tilted up the corner of her mouth.

"Wedding?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, a hot blush spreading over my face. Hopefully it was too dark in the car to see. We had never discussed marriage, but obviously it was on my mind lately. Alice was truly the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

So, um…why was I so fucking embarrassed?

I didn't know, but suddenly I had a wild impulse to propose right there. The sparkle in her eye seemed to be begging for it, as if she was thinking the exact same thing I was thinking. I had no idea if it was the right time or place, but my mouth went dry at the thought of it and my heart started pounding and—

Alice giggled. I had hesitated too long, and the moment was gone.

But she didn't seem disappointed, she actually seemed very delighted. She unclipped her seatbelt and opened the car door before turning back to me with her foxy smile.

"Come on, baby," she said. "I'm not sure if tonight counts as a fight, but I'm so in the mood for makeup sex."

Then she leaned over the gearshift, took me by the nape of my neck, and pulled me into a kiss. Her tongue went directly into my mouth, all warm and fat and wet, and the rush of horniness that passed through me almost caused me to come on the carseat.

I had only moaned once when she broke the kiss and leveled a lusty look into my eyes.

"I'm gonna put on a strap-on and fuck you harder than any guy in your whole life," she whispered into my lips. "Then we'll see if you ever think about men again after tonight."

Well. It seemed I was gonna get laid after all.

Her tongue swarmed back into my mouth and I resumed the moan on the same note it had been cut off from. I heard her unclip my own seatbelt and I threw my arms around her neck, kissing her as deeply as possible. I was so grateful at her forgiveness I felt like I was going to dissolve into mist and pass right through her.

By the time we got upstairs into the apartment, we were both thoroughly wet. We came through the front door and tossed our purses at the coffeetable. We both missed, but neither of us noticed. We were kissing again, the front door slammed shut and me pressed up against it. I had hooked my leg around her body and she was grabbing my ass. I had to applaud her motorskills. I wish I had the ability to grope some area of her anatomy, but it was all I could do not to faint under the force of her kiss.

Finally she broke away, leaving me flushed and gasping, and then she took my hand and led me to the bedroom, rolling her hips in her heels and me stumbling after her on weak and wobbly legs. Before we even got halfway down the corridor I had to pause and kick off my shoes because they were too tricky to walk in.

Wrapped in a heated embrace, we tumbled together onto the bed, kissing and clawing at each other's clothes, moaning and rubbing our bodies together. She helped me out of my dress and I helped her out of hers. I think mine got ripped, but no one seemed to care. We tossed the discarded garments to the floor and sat up in the bed and made out and fondled each other's naked breasts. My mind was so glazed over with lust that I wasn't even capable of thinking. Which was a good thing, because Alice was in a dominant mood, and a dominant Alice is a sexy thing indeed.

Her hand was threaded in my hair and soon her fingers began to close in a fist. I was still trying to suck on her tongue, but she was forcing my head lower. I felt a spike of excitement at her assertiveness, and I didn't resist at all. First she put my head to her breasts and made me suck on her nipples, which I did very eagerly, with long loud moans so she'd know how yummy they were. She made little moans herself and started talking dirty to me. She told me how much I wanted it and called me a few names that might've been insulting in any other situation. I agreed with her, nodding into her boobs, and after thoroughly pleasing her nipples, she instructed me to eat her pussy.

Excitement fluttered through my body and I obeyed immediately, letting her force my head between her thighs. She was still wearing her panties and they came away sticky and wet. As soon as her pussy was exposed, I connected my mouth to it and began licking her just how she liked it.

She came quickly, but she was only getting started. My mouth and face were slathered with her arousal and she kissed me, letting me know I'm a good girl. Then she went and got the strap-on.

I sat up in bed and watched her put it on, my body vibrating with hornyness as she buckled the harness and made sure it was nice and tight. It wasn't the first time we used it, but it was the first time I'd seen Alice in a mood like this, and I had a feeling I was gonna get my brains fucked out. She was grinning at me in a way that suggested this was going to be more fun for her than it would be for me, and the long black dildo was pointing at me rigidly from her crotch.

My lips had gone dry and I licked them as I watched her climb back into the bed, my eyes darting from the strap-on to her face. I was already horny out of my mind, but she began with a bit of foreplay, kissing me and playing with my boobs. I could feel the hard piece of plastic poking my lower body, and vague memories of men I'd been with began to drift up from my sub-consciousness. But none of them were anything like this. Like Alice.

When I was straight, I was always confused about strap-ons. I was never tactless enough to mention it to an actual lesbian, but I always felt that if a woman could have sex with a strap-on she might as well just have sex with a guy. But now that I was gay myself I finally understood the difference. Men are just men. A woman with a strap-on is a different beast entirely.

"You ready, baby?" Alice whispered to me.

My panties were gone and my legs were spread. My pussy was soaked and oh god I was so ready.

"Yes," I hissed. "Yes, I'm ready. Please, Alice, hurry. Hurry, just—"

I was expecting it, but it still blew my mind. She shoved the strap-on in as far as it would go, and my words were choked off in a little cry. It hurt, but it hurt so good.

Then she was humping me. Not the most elegant word to describe it, but it was true. The strap-on was going in and out, in and out, and there wasn't a single thought in my head. All I could do was moan and clench down on the object inside, my eyes fluttering and gazing up glazed at the woman on top of me. Alice. My Alice. Her pretty face was right there in front of mine and I stared at it with my mouth open and my breath panting in and out. In and out in rhythm with the strap-on.

She smirked at my expressing and gave me an extra hard thrust. I groaned, my eyes rolling at how fucking awesome it felt. She had quite a bit of power in her little hips and she wasn't afraid to use it. She had started out fairly fast, but now she was getting even faster. Faster and harder. My breath was moaning in and out of my chest and we were both covered in sweat. Her breasts were jumping on her chest with each thrust, but it was her eyes I was staring at. She was watching the ecstasy building in my face and I let her watch. So much blood was rushing into my cheeks that I could almost feel my makeup sizzling. My legs were wrapped around her and the orgasm that was building in my body felt like it would kill me.

I was getting louder. I could hear my own voice in my ears, the rising volume of my moans as they turned into cries and finally into screams. I maintained eye contact for as long as I could until I was engulfed in a white wave of orgasm that caused my entire body to clench down on the woman on top of me, arms, legs, vagina, everything wrapped around her and holding her tight and never letting go.

And finally it was over. For a few minutes I didn't even know where I was. She had taken the strap-on out and I had rolled onto my side and curled up, naked and sweaty and tangled in the bedsheet. I could feel the hair stuck to my face and I wanted to brush it away but the only thing I could focus on was breathing. I felt more fucked than I ever had in my life.

By and by I became aware that Alice was stroking my hip gently. It made me smile, but I was still too exhausted to move. The next thing I felt was a kiss on my hip and another one. Just little kisses. It made my smile widen and I managed to roll onto my back and open my eyes. She placed a couple kisses on my breasts and a couple on my neck and finally one on my mouth.

That kiss was the most blissful moment in my life.

"Mmm," she moaned, and caressed my cheek. "Was that good for you, baby?"

"Yes," I whispered, still panting a little. "That was amazing."

"Better than any guy you've had?"

Even in my exhaustion I was able to chuckle. "Are you kidding? It's always better with you, Alice. Every single time. But tonight…tonight was just fucking incredible."

She smiled and looked at my face for a moment. Then she placed one last kiss on my lips, sat up, and began unbuckling the strap-on.

"Good," she said. "Now, put this on."

I had sat up too and she tossed the strap-on into my lap. Excitement flittered through my chest and when I looked up the pixie was getting into position on all fours with her ass in the air, completely naked with her wet and perfect pussy pointing at me.

"It's mama's turn," she giggled.

Well. How could I say no to that?

I couldn't and I didn't want to. So I did as she said. I put on the strap-on, grabbed hold of her hips, nudged the tip into her entrance, and proceeded to give her pussy a good pounding. I thrust into her so hard my breasts were swinging on my chest, and I had to admit, it was almost better than when she was doing it to me.

I suppose this was the other perk of sex with a strap-on – sometimes you got to wear it. It was also pretty handy for semi-rough make up sex.

—

Chapter 31:

—

Over the next few days, Alice and I were practically inseparable. The fight had rattled our relationship just a little, and we both seemed eager to show each other exactly how much we loved and wanted to be together. On the surface things were back to normal, but there was a subtle tension between us, and I could tell it was going to take a while for her to forget the image of me kissing a guy.

I wanted to make her feel better, but short of killing him and permanently severing any possible romantic attachment, all I could really do was be there for her and have sex with her as much as possible. Alice was an affectionate girl, and she really digged the sex.

It was my way of saying 'I love you,' and I liked to say it often as possible. We even did it in her office one time. I dropped in on her at the university where she worked for lunch, pausing to admire the gold nameplate on her door. _Dr Mary Alice Brandon, PhD_. My girlfriend was one smart cookie. A noted astrophysicist, prettier and brighter than any of the stars she studies. When we had kids, we'd definitely have to use her DNA. I wouldn't mind having a kid with my own body, but I'd never forgive myself if the baby ended up as dumb as mommy when it could've been as smart as the other mommy.

Alice's office was a cluttered affair, quite different from her neat little apartment. Her desk was filled with papers and charts and protractors and squares and little pots of pens and pencils. There was a telescope pointing out the window and the bookshelves were filled with dusty tomes and little figurines of anime characters. The top shelf featured the entire cast of _Sailor Moon_ in their schoolgirl outfits and right beside them was a collection of miniature giant space robots. Slightly nerdy, my pixie.

Alice was happy to see me and even happier to see the Chinese takeout I brought with me. She was so hungry we ate in her office. I had been hoping we could go for a walk and maybe tour the campus and relive some old college memories, but it worked out better. Because after we ate she got a little flirty and started to talk about how sweet it was of me to surprise her at work and pretty soon the door was closed and we were having sex on her desk with me sitting on a stapler. It was probably the Chinese food. Chinese food always got her in the mood.

But sex wasn't enough. My girlfriend had gotten quite a serious shock only days earlier and it was going to take a little more than office smut to heal her fragile heart.

So I thought about it and my immediate thought was to buy her something expensive, like jewelry. But that was a total guy move—even worse than sex—and I wasn't quite shallow enough to convince myself it was a good idea. Besides, it was Christmas in less than a week and I thought it would be best to save my cash. My next thought was a grand romantic gesture. It seemed like a great idea on the surface, the perfect way to show her how much she means to me. I decided to do it right away, but then I ran into a problem: what kind of gesture?

That was a little trickier. With Christmas so close, my options were kind of limited. Dinner at a nice restaurant was always a wise choice, but it seemed so unimaginative. Other than that, all I could come up with was a romantic getaway over Christmas, but even this was no good. Alice wanted to spend at least part of the day with her parents, and to be honest, I wouldn't mind seeing them either.

I was stumped, and time was running out. Dating a chick was hard. At least with a guy I never cared about his feelings and only focused on my own.

I was close to giving up and convincing myself that the relationship would have to survive on love alone, when I got a call from my darling pixie. It was a mysterious call, filled with giggling and bubbly excitement and instructions to dress nice because she had a surprise for me. I hung up with a floaty feeling in my stomach. It would've been great if I could've organized something special myself, but frankly, this was better.

She had been very emphatic that I should dress nice, so I put quite a bit of effort into it. I opted for a black dress and tall black heels and underneath I wore the black lace panties that never failed to make her drool. She had told me to meet her at her apartment and when I got there I got a strange text that told me to meet her on the roof. Suddenly I was picturing a romantic dinner for two under the stars, and I was smiling to myself as I ascended the stairs. I was so gonna put out tonight.

It was a cool night with no wind and when I emerged onto the roof I found my suspicion were correct. Alice had set up a small table in the corner and covered it with a white tablecloth and she was lighting two candles in silver holders. She had strung up twinkle lights and she was bathed in the warm glow wearing a skimpy red dress that promised on sight that tonight was going to be very special indeed.

"Alice, wow," I said, smiling widely at how lovely it all was. "What's the occasion?"

She blew out the match she used to light the candles, her lips painted red and smiling like a kitten. "Oh, nothing," she said, obviously meaning she'll tell me in minute. "Just wanted to do something special for my baby."

"Wow," I said again, and this time I was looking at her dress. "You look beautiful."

"I know," she giggled, and gave me a kiss. "So do you."

We held each other for a moment, looking into each other's eyes romantically. She had even set up heaters so we wouldn't freeze to death out here in the middle of winter.

"Actually," she said. "It is a special occasion."

I grinned. "It is?"

A hopeful feeling fluttered through my heart. I had the wild idea that she was going to propose right here under the beautiful night sky, but I knew that was silly. We hadn't even talked about marriage yet.

"Mmhm," she said, visibly containing her excitement. "Something happened at work recently and I've been waiting till the right time to tell you."

I was slightly disappointed that my foolish hopes for a proposal were indeed foolish, but I kept the smile on my face. "Really? Wow, that's great. Did you get promoted?"

"No, no, nothing like that," she said. "Come here, come here."

Beside the table she had set up a telescope on a tripod for some reason. I guess it could be romantic to stargaze, especially with a woman whose career was quite literally to study them. There was probably all kinds of romantic stories she could tell me about gods and goddesses falling in love and forming constellations. I wonder if any of them involved lesbians?

"What am I looking at?" I asked, bending to peer into the telescope.

"You see that big blue one right in the middle?"

"Yeah," I said. She had already fixed the lens on a certain cluster of stars out there in space and right in the centers there was one that was big and blue. "What about it?"

She giggled and I heard her clap her hands. "I discovered it."

I stood up, surprised. "You discovered it?" I echoed. "Wow, that's amazing."

"Mmhm," she went on, smiling brightly, "and guess what I named it?"

I already had a guess and I could feel my lips stretching into a radiant grin.

"What did you name it?"

"Well, it's official designation involves a lot of letters and numbers," she said, "but it's named Bella. I named it after you."

My mouth dropped open. "Really?"

"Mmhm," she said, nodding and smiling. "Isn't that romantic? I named a star after you!"

"Oh my god, that's incredible," I said, and quickly bent to the telescope again. There it was, up there in all that blackness. A star my girlfriend had named after me. "Wow," I breathed. "Are you really allowed to do that?"

"Sure, check this out."

I stood up, blinking. Alice handed me an article from some science journal. It was laminated and my heart felt like it was going to flutter right out of my chest as I began reading out loud.

"Planetary body N5 sub 17 is a…"

"Skip to the end, skip to the end," she urged excitedly.

I smiled and skimmed to the bottom.

"…in dedication to her girlfriend," I read, "Dr Brandon has labeled the newly discovered planetary body—"

"Bella," she interrupted, too excited to contain herself. "I called it Bella."

A warm wave of love washed over me and slowly I lowered the article. Alice was almost jiggling on the spot from how eager she was for my reaction, and a delighted laugh escaped me.

"Oh my god," I said. "I don't believe it. That's the most romantic thing anybody's ever done for me."

"I know," she agreed, quite proud of herself. "It's pretty incredible."

I turned and bent once more to the telescope. I looked at the star, _my_ star, and I sighed.

"Oh my god," I repeated. "I can't believe you actually named a star after me."

"Well, technically it's a planet."

"A planet?" I asked, still bent at the telescope.

"Mmhm," she said. "A celestial body. Kind of like yours."

I stood up and found her smirking impishly, letting her eyes flicker over my apparently celestial form. My whole body was humming from how romantic it all was, and suddenly I realized I hadn't hugged her. So I quickly wrapped her into a hug and held her warmth as tightly as I could.

"Oh god, Alice," I said, hugging her close. "You have no idea how much I love you. You are the best."

I felt a giggle vibrate in her chest, but I didn't let go. I meant every word. Alice really was the best. I didn't deserve a girl like her. It should've been me who did something special after what happened the other night, but instead here I am practically weeping on her shoulder from happiness.

"Thanks, baby," she said. "I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

I kept holding her. Her perfume was so amazing.

"I love you, Alice," I whispered.

"I love you too," she said, and wiggled a little so she could put a kiss on my cheek. I released her just enough to gaze into her pretty face, hoping she could see in my eyes how much I loved her. She smiled, a blush suffusing her cheeks. "Come on," she said, prying me away gently. "Let's eat."

I was reluctant to let her go, but I didn't want the rest of her surprise to go to waste. There would be plenty of time to cuddle later on, like after sex. If the evening got any more romantic I was going to come like an atom bomb when she finally touched me.

She had made a special dinner, and even though it was a long trip to fetch it from the oven in her apartment, it was well worth it to eat under the stars – and my star. She had classical music playing on a stereo and every now and then I'd gaze up at the sky in the direction the telescope was pointed and sigh. Alice told me more about her discovery and about the scientific significance, but all I could think about was how romantic it was.

"I still can't believe it," I said, practically floating in my chair. "You're amazing, Alice."

She giggled and waved it off. "Oh, it's no big deal," she said. "It's not like it took any work to find, it was almost an accident. And seriously, what else was I going to name it? It was either you or my mother."

That made sense, but my heart was still swollen and filled with love. "It's still the sweetest thing anybody's ever done for me," I said, staring up at the sky. "I can't wait till we make love tonight. It's gonna be so awesome."

"Me too," she agreed. "I bet this is one surprise you never would've guessed, right?"

She sipped her wine and I smiled at her like a schoolgirl.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm still shocked. When I first came up here and saw the lights and the candles, I kind of thought you were gonna propose."

The word propose almost caused her to choke on the wine.

"Propose?" she grinned, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "We've never even talked about marriage."

I was so euphoric I didn't even feel embarrassed about mentioning it. Why should I feel embarrassed? The woman named a star after me – obviously this wasn't a fling.

"I know," I said. "But, you know…"

She examined my blush in the candlelight for a moment.

"Were you disappointed I didn't?" she asked.

"Kinda," I admitted, and then quickly backpedaled. "But the star's amazing, I mean that's almost better. Besides, I'm not an idiot. I mean, I wasn't seriously expecting you to propose, it was just something silly that popped into my head. We haven't even lived together, it stupid to even think about marriage."

Okay, maybe I was a little embarrassed. Truthfully, I was kind of surprised at my babbling. I knew that I wanted to be with Alice for the rest of my life, but until that moment, I hadn't been aware how serious I was.

"But you do think about it," she prodded.

"Sometimes," I said, a little shyly. "Do you?"

Alice smiled and giggled once. She looked out over the twinkling skyline of Seattle out there in the dark and turned back to me. She was almost more embarrassed than me.

"I guess," she said. "I just never thought you were ready to talk about that stuff."

Butterflies began stirring in my stomach and I sensed a real opportunity to Make Progress in Our Relationship. So I nodded and went on in what I hoped was a calm and reasonable tone and not at all as clingy and eager as I felt.

"Well, we've been together a while now," I said. "So I think it's safe to say we're serious. I mean, the end goal of all this is marriage, right? And a family. And maybe a house and some pets. Right?"

I was detecting excitement in her expression, but she was trying to stay calm like me. "Sure."

I nodded, and then a thought hit me. "So, um…how does that work exactly?" I asked. "Like with me and you, for example. If we were to get married, who would propose? Because I have no idea. Sometimes I think it should be me, sometimes I think it should be you. It's kind of confusing."

She laughed at me and shook her head. "There's no rule, baby," she said. "Even straight couples have no official rule who pops the question."

"No, but it's generally always the guy," I pointed out. "There's gotta be guidelines for gay couples, right?"

"Well, in our case I think the logical choice would be for you to propose."

My stomach flipped flopped. I didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, you're taller for one thing," she said. "You also make more money than me. Besides, we both know you can be a bit of a dude at times. I can be a little bossy sometimes, but I still think you're the assertive one."

I nodded slowly, blushing at her description of me. That wasn't how I saw myself at all. I suppose it was true that Alice bought out my knightly instincts, but most of the time I felt more like the princess's chamber maid, desperate to please but without much power to do it. I mean, look at us here tonight. Alice had made this the most romantic night of my life and all I could do was sit here and gush and hint at marriage. Some knight.

Alice refilled our wine glasses, emptying the bottle, and took up her glass. "But we don't have to decide anything now," she said. "It's just nice to know we're both open to the possibility. The first step is to move in together."

"Okay," I said. "When?"

This time she did cough into her wine glass.

"I wasn't saying we should right now!" she blurted with a wide grin. "I was saying we should eventually!"

I felt a crushing embarrassment and I quickly nodded meekly. "Right, right," I said. "Sorry."

She giggled and shook her head, setting down her glass. "Jeez," she said, "you're a little eager aren't you?" She smiled at me for a moment and made me blush some more. "You know, I kind of like this clingy side in you."

"What can I say?" I said, gesturing with my wine glass. "You bring out the woman in me."

I then gulped down the contents. I was probably a little drunk too.

"Tell you what," Alice said. "Christmas is right around the corner, so why don't we move in together after New Years? The lease on my apartment is almost over. I'd have to waste a few months, but…"

She reached across the table and caressed my hand.

"…maybe I'm a little eager too," she smirked.

My insides quivered at the contact, and once again I was reminded how great the sex was going to be tonight. But now wasn't the time to think about sex, now was the time to make Important Decisions for Our Future.

"Well, we don't have to move into my place if you don't want," I said. "I could move in here. Or better yet, why don't we get a new place? We'd have a combined income and we could get something really nice."

All this made sense, but I had an ulterior motive. I smiled shyly and decided to be honest about it.

"Besides," I said. "It's a bigger commitment if we get a new place."

I thought she might find that cute—and maybe she did—but for some reason she sobered up a little. She let go of my hand and gave a little shrug.

"That's true," she said, "but…"

"But what?"

"Well, what if it falls apart?" she said cautiously. "I mean, don't you think we should be practical? If I move in with you, at least my apartment will waiting for me if you ever decide a relationship with a woman isn't for you."

A cold little niggle made me frown. Tonight was so perfect, why did she have to bring that up? I knew she was probably still bothered by that kiss and unable to understand why exactly it meant nothing, but seriously. Here I am desperately trying to wheedle her into a permanent living situation together, and she's _still_ worried I might not be gay?

So I reached across the table and grabbed her hand with romantic aggressiveness. "I love you, Alice," I said. "That's never going to change."

I don't know how convinced she was, but she played it off as a joke. "What if I leave _you_?" she said teasingly. "Leah's still got eyes for me, you know."

I gave her a cocky smile. "You're not going to leave me, Alice," I said with a surprising amount of confidence. Then I let go of her hand and gestured at the night sky. "You named a star after me, for god's sake."

Alice looked up at where the telescope was pointed and sighed prettily. Her shoulders were bare in her red dress and very smooth and warm looking in the yellow glow of the twinkle lights.

"Yeah, that's true," she said. She lowered her smile to me and giggled once. "Okay then," she said. "We'll get a new place together."

A jolt of excitement hit my stomach. "Really?"

"Mmhm," she said. "It's the next logical step."

I was so happy I jumped up and hugged her.

"Yay!" I cheered, not caring how stupid or out of character I sounded. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," I said, kissing her rapidly on her hair. "I love you, Alice. I love you so much."

She giggled and patted my arm, the one I had wrapped around her. She kissed it and rubbed her cheek against me. "I love you too, baby."

She then lifted her face for a kiss. I obliged her very eagerly. I pressed my lips to hers and held them there for a long moment, the love I felt for her coursing through my body. I had no idea which of us would propose when the time finally came, but it didn't matter. I just hoped it would be soon.

Finally we broke the kiss, and for a moment I held her and smiled at her. She smiled back, waiting for me to speak, and finally a giggle bubbled out of me.

"I still can't believe you named a star after me," I said. "You are so perfect, Alice. Do you have any idea how turned on I am right now?"

She smiled and rose from her chair. I had to let go of the hug, but if this meant we could go downstairs and make love, I was happy to do it. She leaned to the candles and blew them out, the wicks expiring and thin gray smoke rising into the cold night air, and turned her smile to me.

"Well, I made a dessert for after dinner," she said, "but I guess we can have it in bed. Come on."

She then took my hand and led me to the stairwell, leaving the plates and the remnants of our romantic evening behind. The touch of her hand caused sparks to jump across my body and it was a good thing she had a firm grip, because I honestly felt like I was going to float away.

Oh Alice.

I love you so much.

—

Chapter 34:

—

Christmas Eve was approaching quickly, and we were a little late deciding in whose apartment to celebrate. We'd be spending Christmas Day at her parent's house, and neither of my parents had contacted me with plans, so we had the whole night to ourselves. The shopping was done, the gifts were ready to go under the tree, and we were planning a midnight unwrapping. The only question was, whose apartment?

I was in favor of Alice's apartment, mostly because she had already put up decorations and I was too lazy to put up any in my own apartment. This was unacceptable to Alice, however, because apparently "it's Christmas." That was the whole of her argument and there seemed to be no way around it. I was still a little reluctant, but I got considerably more excited when she promised to come over and help me decorate.

It was the day before Christmas Eve. We strung up silver tinsel over the kitchen cabinets—making them almost impossible to get into—and we covered the fridge with little Christmas stickers of reindeer and snowmen and Santa and his sleigh. While we worked my little pixie wondered out loud if it was slightly anti-feminist that there was no such thing as snowwomen, but considering how pudgy the snowcreatures were, maybe it was all for the best.

We set up the tree in the corner of my living room, a big plastic thing that I'd bought yesterday. Every other year I had only set up a little miniature tree on the coffeetable. Alice chided me for being such a Grinch, but it wasn't my fault Christmas was stupid. I didn't tell that to Alice, though. She was having a lot of fun and I was having fun just watching her have fun, so I put a smile on my face and followed her orders.

We decorated the tree with a box of decorations I'd bought, little gold and silver baubles. Elegant, but festive. I arranged them on the boughs as best I could, but Alice saw fit to move most of them an inch or two just to make it perfect.

"This is so exciting, isn't it?" she said, standing on tiptoes to adjust a piece of tinsel. "Our first Christmas together. What do you want to put on top of the tree? A star or an angel?"

I had bought both, not knowing which she would prefer. She was holding the angel in one hand and the star in the other, waiting for my response. I was tremendously tempted to explain how little I gave a fuck about what goes on top of the tree, but I didn't want to ruin her happy mood.

So I pretended to look interested and conflicted and said, "I don't know, you pick."

"How about the angel?" she suggested. "I love angels. Don't you love angels?"

I shrugged and took the angel from her hands. "Not really," I said. "I used to collect little angel figurines when I was a kid. My mother used to buy them for me. She was deep into the whole Christianity thing. She used to be Catholic, but then she switched over. Fuck knows why, it's all the fucking same."

Alice nodded and cocked her head. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you believe in religion?"

Tricky question. The short answer was no, but I didn't want her to think I was some soulless heathen. Besides, it's not like I hate religion. So I shrugged again and handed back the angel.

"Not really," I said. "My mother tried to raise me that way, but it didn't stick. I believe in god and all that, but only because I don't want to go to hell on a technicality. You?"

She nodded eagerly, smoothing the little angel's dress and making her look pretty. "My mother raised me as a Christian," she said. "Haven't been to church lately, but she used to take me all the time when I was younger."

"Must be a different church than the one my mom goes to," I said. "She thinks gay people are evil."

She looked up. I felt bad for spoiling the mood a little, but she overlooked it with a smile.

"Well, whenever you're ready to tell her," she said, "I'll be right there with you. It won't be as bad as you think, I promise."

I nodded. I even believed her a little. Not because I had faith in my mother's ability to accept and understand me, but because I was really beginning not to care. In a way, it might be even easier than telling my dad.

"I guess so," I said. "Thanks."

She smiled, and then she touched my shoulder and placed a quick peck on my lips. Then she turned her attention back to the tree, gazing up at the top and pondering how to reach.

"Um, do you have a step ladder?" she asked. She stepped on her toes and tried to reach but she didn't even come close. "I can't reach the top of the tree."

I smiled. "If you really want an angel up there, we should just stick you on top."

"Gee," she said with a smirk. "Did you write that one all by yourself?"

I ignored the quip and decided to try and lift her. It seemed like less work than fetching the step ladder and checking it for spiders, but I might've miscalculated a little. I bobbed down, wrapped my arms around her waist, and hefted her up, wobbling and almost tumbling over.

"Gosh, you're so heavy," I said. "Maybe we should skip the pudding this year."

Alice giggled and focused on setting the angel on top of the tree. When she was done she said,

"Okay, you can put me—"

Her words were cut off by a violent jostle. I had shifted my feet and stepped on a stray bauble.

"Oh shit," I said, and proceeded to stumble backwards.

Alice squealed, but I managed not to spike her on the coffeetable. I tripped toward the couch, fell, and she landed safely on the cushion, bouncing once and giggling at the ride. I wasn't so lucky. I had lost my footing and landed hard on my knees – right at her feet.

Coincidently, her legs were open. She was wearing jeans, but they were skin tight and it was impossible not to notice that I was eyelevel with her vagina. I looked up at her and we seemed to think the exact same thing. Identical grins blossomed over our mouths, and I put my hands on her knees, easing them open a little more.

"Well," I said. "This is a rather provocative position, isn't it? Is my angel in the mood?"

She giggled as I placed a kiss on the fly of her jeans. I had never unzipped someone with my mouth before, but it seemed like an erotic thing to do. My fingers had already unbuttoned her and I finally got a grip on the zippertag with my teeth. It wasn't as easy as it seemed, but I pulled it down and—

There was a knock on the door.

I groaned. Always when I'm eating.

Alice seemed disappointed too. She was pretty turned on and she shot a helpless look at the door, visibly wishing they'd go away.

"It's probably Jess," I said. "Do you wanna ignore it?"

I opened her jeans and kissed the frilly elastic waistband of her panties in an attempt to sway her. She bit her lip – she hated to be rude to visitors, but you could see she was horny.

"Um," she said. "Just this once, we'll see her later."

I smiled and tugged down her jeans. I tugged them all the way to her knees and ducked my head underneath and started kissing the insides of her warm thighs, feeling her quiver with anticipation under my lips. I placed some kisses on her fabric of her panties, teasing her, teasing myself. Finally I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her underwear and—

More knocking.

Alice groaned loudly and I was even more pissed.

"Fucking hell," I hissed, stumbling to my feet. "I'm gonna kill her, I swear."

"She's probably just lonely," Alice said, very graciously under the circumstances. "She doesn't have family in Seattle."

She went to pull up her jeans, but I stopped her.

"Just wait right there," I said, "I'll get rid of her quickly."

She smiled impishly and didn't even try to talk me out of it. She put her hands in her lap and decided to wait like a good girl with her pants around her ankles. I grinned at how cute she was, but there was another knock and I quickly stormed over to the door.

I tore it open, already midsentence. "Jess, what the—"

But it wasn't Jess.

It was my mom.

The feeling that swept over me was like being in a nightmare. She was standing there with a wide smile and a winter coat wrapped around her and she spread her arms for a hug.

"Surprise, sweetie!"

"Mom," I gasped. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

I was so shocked, I didn't think to censor myself. Her face darkened at the lack of a hug and at the profanity and she gave me that little self-righteous frown I recognized from my childhood.

"Excuse me?" she said.

I shook myself out of it, but my mind was racing and my face was on fire. But I at least remembered my manners.

"I mean, um…hi," I said. "Wow, it's great to see you. What are you doing here?"

My change of tone pleased her, and she let herself into my apartment, grabbing me into a hug and patting my back as if she was happy to see me.

"Phil has business here in Seattle over the holidays," she said, "and I thought it would be wonderful to—"

She broke off. My heart dropped, because I knew what she must've seen.

She had let me go from the hug and I turned around to see my lesbian girlfriend buttoning up her jeans with a bright blush on her face. Thank god she had at least pulled up her pants. Mom paled, but you could see she didn't believe what it looked like. Not yet.

"Oh," Alice said, embarrassed but cheerful. She waved. "Hi!"

Mom's face went hard. She was holding a handbag in both hands and she gave the suspicious girl in her daughter's apartment a cool nod.

"Hello," she said. "Who are you?"

Alice bit her lip and looked at me, unsure how I wanted to handle it. I had no idea. I sure as fuck wasn't going to tell my mother I was gay this instant. My primary goal was to get rid of her as quickly as possible, but first I had to introduce Alice somehow. Mom was looking at me too and I quickly stammered to life.

"O-oh," I stuttered. "This is…this is…"

I could hardly remember her name, and I wasn't even sure if I should say it. Oh god, why did this have to happen now?

"Alice," Alice said, sticking out her hand for a handshake. "I'm Alice. It's nice to meet you. You must be Bella's mom."

Mom frowned at the hand and didn't shake it. She wasn't a handshaker, my mom. It wasn't ladylike according to her archaic standards. This was a woman who thought the fifties were paradise.

"Yes, I'm her mother," she said. "And you are?"

Alice was confused. "I'm Alice," she repeated. "That's my name."

"Yes, and you are what?" Mom went on impatiently. "A roommate? Bella never said she had a roommate."

"Um…"

Alice glanced at me for help. I was dizzy and lightheaded from the shock and the only thing I wanted to do was get my mom out of the apartment. I seriously could not deal with this right now and Alice would have to understand.

"No, no, nothing like that," I said, causing mom's attention to swing back to me. "Alice is just a friend, that's all. She doesn't live here."

Alice's face fell slightly, but she didn't say anything. Mom looked her over again. She was wearing trendy half-moon spectacles and she looked much like a judgmental hawk.

"Just a friend?" she echoed.

She seemed to believe it, so I went on. "Actually, she's friends with my neighbor next door," I said. "She was just giving me a hand with the tree, that's all."

"I see," mom said.

At first I was relieved, but then I looked at Alice. A slight bit of disgust had come into her face and she was looking at me as if I had really hurt her somehow. I felt a wriggle of panic, but honestly, I didn't even remember what I had said. I was only trying to avoid a scene.

Mom had mellowed slightly. She was probably still suspicious of the girl who had buttoning up her jeans in my living room, but maybe she had just gotten out of the bathroom.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," mom said, even attempting a smile. "Bella doesn't talk much about her friends."

Alice snorted, her face coloring with anger. "Maybe she's ashamed of them."

My heart sank even lower. Oh Alice, please don't do this.

"I'm not ashamed," I stammered. "I'm just…"

"Just what?"

Tears prickled my eyes. Why was she mad at me? What did I say wrong?

"Alice," I whispered.

But this didn't placate her, it only seemed to aggravate her further. She scoffed, her face full of bitterness, and shook her head.

"You know, this is ridiculous," she said. "I know you don't want to tell her about us until you're ready, but did you have to pass me off as a friend of your _neighbor_? Do you have any idea how belittling that is? Like I'm _nothing_ to you?"

Well. I guess this was it. Numb waves of shock passed over me and the feeling of being in a nightmare came back and settled in my stomach.

"I was just…"

Ii was my last attempt to calm her down, but it only pushed her over the edge.

"Oh, I know what you were doing!" she burst out. "You were pretending I'm absolutely nothing to you in order to avoid a difficult situation. Well news flash, Bella! This isn't going to work if you're afraid of a little difficulty. I'm so sorry I'm not your precious Mr Masen, but—"

" _What_?!" I screeched, completely flabbergasted that she would even go there. "Are you fucking kidding me!? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"With _me_?!" she screeched right back. "You're the one who can't even tell your own mother you're gay!"

Silence descended over the apartment.

For a moment, it was like time had stopped. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. I looked at mom, blinking back tears. She looked at me with shock all over her face. She looked at Alice. She turned back to me and said,

"G-gay?"

No one replied. Alice looked abashed, but she was still frowning. I couldn't believe she had done this to me. After all her promises of being supportive, after all her lectures of doing it properly and respectfully. My girlfriend had outed me in front of my own mother.

What a fucking bitch.

"Oh my god," mom said, seeing the truth in the tension between us. "Oh god, Bella, tell me it isn't true."

I ignored her and glared at my girlfriend.

"Thanks a fucking lot, Alice," I said. "Jesus Christ."

"Don't you dare take the lord's name in vain, young lady," mom hissed at me, clutching my arm. "Don't you _dare_!"

I jerked my arm away and looked at her in disgust. "Fuck the lord and fuck you too," I spat. "What the fuck are you even doing here, anyway? You couldn't fucking call first?"

"Oh my god," mom said, regressing into shock at being spoken to like that. She put a hand to her forehead and almost fell over.

Alice took a step toward me, her face filled with regret and tears shining in her eyes. She could see something had snapped inside me.

"Bella—"

"No, fuck you, Alice!" I said, spinning to her. "You promised you were gonna be there and support me and this is what you do?! How could you? For fuck's sake! Why do you have to be such a heterophobic little bitch all the time?"

Alice froze. Her lip trembled and a broken sob escaped her. I had time to realize that I had gone too far—way too far—before she sniffed, wiped her eyes, and said,

"Fuck you, Bella."

Then she grabbed her phone and her purse and stormed out of the apartment. I reached for her as she went by, but she snatched her arm away and kept going.

"Alice," I said. "Alice, wait."

But the door slammed and she was gone.

I closed my eyes. They were hot with tears and my head had started throbbing from the enormity of everything that happened. It had all happened so fast, I couldn't even—

"Oh my god," mom said, still apparently in shock.

I turned to her and most of my anger dissipated. My anger, my surprise, my anxiety. All that was left was numbness.

"Mom, calm down," I said. "For god's sake, it's no big deal."

Mom was shaking her head. She had taken off her glasses because she was almost crying as well.

"Is it true, Bella?" she said. "Please tell me it's not true."

I exhaled through my nose. There was no more reason to deny and I didn't even want to.

"It's true," I said bluntly. "Sorry."

Mom sniffed. She had wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and now she put her spectacles back on, composing her face with effort into a mask of calmness. She looked like someone who had experienced something tragic but was trying to be brave. It was almost funny.

She put a hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. I almost thought she was going to accept me, but that wasn't what they preached in her church.

"Well, don't you worry about it," she said. "It's not your fault. I know you, Bella, you're a good girl. I don't know what that woman did to you, but we can put a stop to it. I'm just glad the lord led me to you now, when you need me."

She concluded her little speech with a smile to let me know I was still her daughter. But I wasn't. No way, fuck that. Mom and I had been drifting apart for long a time, but this was it.

It would've been funny under other circumstances. When she had first walked through the door, I was afraid of her. Then I was angry and disgusted at her. Now I just felt sorry for her. If she truly believed that the lord led her to Seattle in order to cure her homosexual daughter, then the poor woman should be locked up somewhere.

So I detached her hand from my shoulder, gently like you'd treat a crazy person, and tried to be at least a little tactful.

"Um, yeah," I said. "Listen, mom. This might be hard for you to hear, but I don't actually care what you—or the lord—thinks of me and my orientation. So…"

Mom bristled at this, but she remembered that it wasn't my fault since I was probably possessed by some lesbian demon, or at the very least confused by some homosexual harlot.

"Bella, don't talk like that," she said.

But I shrugged, truly not caring. "I'm sorry, mom," I told her simply. "What else can I say? I can't help the way I feel. I fell in love with a chick. I'm a lesbian. Sorry. Better luck with your other kids. You and Phil are still trying, right?"

My cavalier attitude seemed to pushed her over the edge. She put a hand to her temple, like a diva in an opera. "Oh my god," she said, but it was nothing I hadn't heard already.

"Don't start with that shit again," I said. "Look, mom, this really isn't difficult. Accept me or don't, I really don't care."

"Bella, I have raised you ever since you were born," she said, her eyes red and shiny behind her glasses. "I didn't raise you to be… _this_! How could you do this to me?"

I nodded understandingly and took her arm, leading her out of the apartment since she seemed to be having trouble standing up. As much as I loved drama, I had more important things to worry about. I had a girlfriend that I really needed to apologize to, and even though the particulars of the fight were a blur, I figured the sooner the better. I loved her too much to be mad at her over something like this.

"Bella," she said, trying to stand her ground. "Bella, what—"

"Sorry, mom," I said, urging her out the door, "but none of this is my problem. I have my own problems, okay?"

"How can you say that?" she hissed. "I'm your mother! I'm not some—"

"Look, mom, you're upset," I said. "This is a shock, I know. So why don't you go home and take some time to get over it, okay? Give me a call if you decide not to disown me. And if you never speak to me again, well. Just know that I'm gonna be happy with Alice. I love her and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with her."

Mom went pale as a sheet at that. Obviously the idea of her daughter being happy with another woman—and by extension having routine sex with her—was too much for her to handle.

"Oh my god," she said, and then she turned and began to shuffle down the corridor, clutching her handbag to her chest.

I wondered if I'd ever see her again, but honestly? I really didn't think I cared.

I ducked back into my apartment quickly to grab my keys and cellphone. I locked the door with my key and looked at the cellphone in my other hand, wondering if I should call ahead. I didn't even know if she went home, maybe she—

The door across the hall opened and Jess popped her head out. She saw me there and came out into the hall cautiously, a worried look on her face.

"Hey, everything okay?" she asked. "I heard yelling. You and Ally have a fight?"

"Kind of," I said. "My mom showed up and made a scene."

Jess nodded and put her hands in her back pockets.

"Wow, that sucks," she said. "It sounded pretty serious. Are you guys going to be okay?"

I looked up from the phone.

It sounded serious?

Slowly a very bad feeling began to seep into my heart. Fragments of the fight were flashing through my mind, and I realized that it really was serious. Alice had outed me to my own mother and I had said some very bad things. But it was just words, right? I wasn't really mad at her, and she couldn't possibly be mad at me.

Jess was still waiting for an answer and I shook myself out of it.

"Um, yeah," I said. "Of course we're going to be okay."

She nodded, still a little anxious, and I nodded back as a goodbye before turning and hurrying down the hall. I stuck the phone in my jacket pocket and tried to fight off the bad feeling that seemed to be settling into my bones. I told myself there was nothing to worry about. I would go to her place, apologize profusely, and everything would be okay.

Right?

—

Chapter 35:

—

I drove directly to her apartment through a pouring rain and jabbed at the elevator button repeatedly. I'd gotten a little wet on the sidewalk and my hair was damp. When the elevator arrived I got in and wrapped my arms around my middle. I was cold, but it wasn't the wet or the winter, it was the fear that something really bad had happened and maybe I wouldn't be able to fix it.

I knocked on Alice's door with my knuckles, but she didn't answer. I knocked again. I started to panic – what if she wasn't home? What if she was so mad she didn't want to speak to me? I tucked some wet hair behind my ear and waited impatiently for a few more seconds and then I took out my cellphone.

I called and it went immediately to voicemail. I almost whimpered and quickly said, "Alice, where are you? Look, I'm at your apartment. Are you home? If you're home, please answer the door."

I hung up and knocked again. I waited.

Nothing.

Now I was really panicking. She couldn't have gone anywhere else, she had to be here. And if she was here and she wasn't answering, then she didn't want to talk to me. And if she didn't want to talk to me, that meant—

I called again and again it went to voicemail.

"Alice, please," I said, almost pleading. "Where are you? Will you just—"

I broke off. The door was opening.

I put the phone away, my heart racing in my chest. Alice opened the door and looked at me. I didn't know what I had been expecting, but it wasn't this. She didn't look angry or sad or hurt. She just looked tired. Somehow that seemed even worse, but I pushed my anxieties away and opened my mouth to say whatever it would take to make everything better.

"Alice, I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to—"

She cut me off with a quick shake of her head.

"Just go away, Bella," she said. "There's no point even talking about it."

I didn't know what she meant and I didn't waste time thinking about it. The door was only half open and she was blocking my entrance inside, but I inched forward anyway. "Alice, I'm sorry," I repeated. "I was upset. I didn't mean to—"

But she cut me off again.

"It's alright," she said limply, "you didn't do anything wrong. I was the one that fucked up. Look, just go away alright? There's no point, this was never gonna work anyway."

Tears sprang to my eyes. What the fuck was happening? What the fuck was she talking about?

"Go away?" I said. "Why? What are you talking about? Alice, please, just—"

I tried to get into her apartment, but she didn't budge. She shook her head sadly and wouldn't look at me.

"We're too different," she said. "We're never gonna be in the same place. Trust me, I've seen this before. It never works out with your first girlfriend, you've got to get more comfortable first. You'll have better luck with your next girlfriend, don't worry."

"Alice, I don't understand," I whimpered. "I love you. Isn't that all that matters? Please, just…"

This time I trailed off. I didn't know what to say. Alice was dumping me and I didn't understand why.

Alice looked at me and watched me wipe my eyes with my fingers. She blinked back tears of her own but otherwise she seemed unmoved.

"Just forget about it, Bella," she said. "I knew it was pointless when you first asked me out. I was happy to try and guide you through it and all, but it's over now. I'm sorry about what happened with your mother. That was really shitty of me. It just goes to show I'm not ready either."

"No, no, it was okay," I insisted quickly. "I don't care, Alice. I don't care what she thinks, I don't care what anyone thinks. I love you."

But she only shook her head.

"Don't bother, Bella," she said. "It's over, okay?"

I sniffed. Tears dripped onto my cheeks.

"Are you serious?" I asked in a small and broken voice.

A tear slid silently down her face. "Yes."

"How can you be serious?"

"I told you," she said. "It was never gonna work anyway. You're not the right woman for me. I thought you were, but you're not. I realize that now. I need someone different. I need someone who…"

I sobbed. She stopped speaking and looked away.

"That's bullshit," I said. "You can't just—"

"Bella, don't make this hard."

"I'm not making it hard," I said, "you're making it hard. We had a fight. It's no big deal. I'm sorry. Just please—let me inside. Let's talk. Don't just…"

I was trying to get a foot inside the door, but she closed it further.

"I'm sorry, Bella," she said. "I'll get my stuff from your apartment later, I just need to be alone for a while."

"Alice, please."

"Wait here a second."

She went into her apartment and shut the door, leaving me trembling in the hallway with tears on my face and the worst pain ever in my heart. I was trying desperately not to cry, because I knew if I cried then it was true. If I didn't cry, maybe it was just a misunderstanding.

She was gone too long. I grabbed the doorknob and tried to open the door, but she had locked it. I sobbed and yanked on the doorknob with both hands. Then I kicked the door with my toe. The door didn't budge. A hot salty lump was lodged in my throat and I couldn't swallow it.

Finally the door opened and Alice reappeared. She only opened it a crack and she handed through a small gift wrapped in Christmas paper.

"Here," she said. "I got this for you. Merry Christmas."

I took the gift and lost interest in it instantly.

"Alice," I said. "Alice, please…"

"Open it," she told me.

My lip trembled, but I did as she said. It was a small oblong box, and I could tell from the size and weight that it was jewelry. My fingers fumbled with the tape and tore away the paper.

It was a jewelry box like I predicted, and with a shaky hand I lifted the lid. Inside was a whitegold necklace with a whitegold pendant shaped like a butterfly. The wings were embedded with tiny diamonds and sapphires and it was so beautiful that I couldn't hold it back anymore; I started crying.

Quietly, quiet little sobs. Almost lost in the sound of the rain outside. Alice watched me and wiped once at her own cheeks where a tear or two had fallen.

"It's a butterfly," she said. "Butterflies symbolize transformation. They also have a bit of lesbian subtext. Because, you know. Butterflies and flowers? I thought it would be cute."

"Alice, please," I said. "Why are you doing this? Everything will be okay, I promise. Just…"

But she was shaking her head again.

"I'm sorry, Bella," she said. She opened the door just wide enough to step out and place a kiss on my lips. Then she stepped back and looked at me and finally her face began to crack. Her lip trembled and the anguish of another ruined relationship washed over it and in a broken voice she quickly said, "Goodbye."

The door slammed shut.

For a long time I stood there in the hallway with the jewelry box in my hands and the wrapping paper wadded in my fist. My head was pounding and my eyes were leaking freely. I looked at the butterfly pendant and blinked rapidly. Such a beautiful gift. Why? Why did she have to do this? Everything had been so perfect. Why?

I sniffed and after a while I closed the jewelry box and turned and started down the hall. I rode the elevator down and walked through the rain to my car. I was soaked by the time I climbed in behind the wheel, but I didn't turn the key. I set the jewelry box on the passenger seat and wrapped my arms around my middle, trying not to cry. I didn't know why I was trying not to, and after a while I stopped trying. I burst into tears and crumpled into a ball behind the wheel, crying my eyes out while the rain pattered on the roof of the car.

—

Chapter 36:

—

I cried for a long time, but somehow I managed to drive myself home instead of off a bridge. I didn't even know why I was going home and when I got there I had no idea what to do with myself. I felt sick in my stomach and I seemed to be struggling to understand what was actually happening. But it was all very clear.

Alice had dumped me.

I was still kind of shocked. I had been dumped before, of course. But never quite like this. Never when it mattered so much to me.

I didn't eat all day. I skipped lunch, skipped dinner. Jess called and sent texts and came knocking later that night. It was Christmas Eve, but she didn't have a boyfriend these days. Nothing else to do, I guess. I ignored her and continued to wallow in a deepening depression. How was this even possible? I tried to figure it out, but my brain wasn't working. My head was all hot and feverish. Hard to think. All I could do was sit on the couch with a box of tissues, weeping and sniffling and trying to convince myself that this wasn't really happening.

But it was, it really was. Alice had dumped me. Dumped me in her doorway. Wouldn't even let me talk. How could she do this to me? Why? What did I do? I didn't do anything. Everything was perfect. I loved her so much. We were going to move in together. We had even talked about marriage. And now…

I sniffed. So unfair.

It was truly incredible how much it hurt. The feeling in my stomach was like she had stabbed me there and twisted the blade and left the knife inside me. I'd had this feeling before, back in college. When Jake, my first real boyfriend, broke up with me. It felt like I would never get over it, but I did. Would I get over it this time? Somehow I didn't think so. Somehow it was different. Alice was different. Alice was the One. She always had been. I knew from when I first saw her. She had changed something in me. Made me whole. I never loved anyone like I loved her.

And now she dumped me.

Midnight came and went and I didn't open any gifts. They were mostly for Alice. Aside from one or two that my dad sent me. I took a shower and took my box of tissues to bed. I cuddled the box like a teddy bear, blew my nose, and after a while I cried myself to sleep. In the morning there was a pile of used tissues on the carpet beside my bed and it had started snowing.

I didn't feel any better, but my head was a little clearer. I wrapped myself in a nightrobe and shuffled into the living room. I could see the snow falling in the window beside the tree that me and Alice had decorated together. That was only yesterday. When we were together and everything was perfect. The box of unused decorations was still sitting by the tree and all the gifts were scattered around the base.

I'd gotten her a few things, and I spent the morning unwrapping them at the coffeetable. Certain articles made me sniff sadly as I recalled the emotions I'd felt when I bought them. A lot of the gifts were underwear. Lingerie. Sexy little things for my sexy little girlfriend. I guess I was a little shallow. There was also some perfume. Expensive perfume, the kind she really loved. It was nothing as wonderful and meaningful as the necklace she had given me, and yet she dumped me. She loved me and she really wanted to be with me – and then she dumped me.

I was wearing the necklace now and I fingered the butterfly pendant at my neck as I looked at the gifts arranged on the coffeetable. I had been so excited to watch her unwrap every little thing. And even more excited for her to try them on. I thought we could have a special morning before driving up to her parent's place. But I guess none of that was happening now. I couldn't show my face at her parent's place after this. Alice might not even be there. And even if she was, she didn't want to see me. She dumped me.

I sniffed and dabbed at my eye with a tissue. I was still in shock. At some point I was going to have to think about this rationally and come up with some kind of plan to win her back. Because this was bullshit. I couldn't live without Alice. I needed her. I needed her more than air. I could hardly fucking breathe without her. Every breath felt like needles in my—

The was a noise at my front door. A key in the lock, the lock turning.

I looked up with a quick blossom of hope but the hope wilted and died when the door opened. It was Jess. She had a Santa hat on her blonde head and she came in cautiously, as if she were afraid I might throw things at her. I had thought maybe it was Alice, but of course that was a stupid thing to think. Alice dumped me. Alice hated me.

Jess tucked her spare key into her jean's pocket and came toward me slowly. I blew my red nose and tidied myself up a little, wrapping my robe tighter.

"Hey," Jess said in a gentle voice. "Merry Christmas."

I could tell from her expression that she knew about the break up or had at least guessed based on the evidence of the fight and the fact that I was sitting here alone on Christmas morning amid a pile of used tissues. She was here to make me feel better, but unless she was going to put me out of my misery with a high caliber bullet to the head I really didn't think she'd be able to.

"I don't want to talk about it, Jess," I muttered.

She maintained a small distance from me. There was sympathy all over her face but she still kind of looked like a rat. "Have you talked to her?"

I shook my head.

"Me either," she said. "I keep trying to call her, but she won't answer. What happened between you guys? I heard yelling yesterday, but all I could hear was the word bitch."

I sniffed. That had been me. I'd called her a bitch. My precious Alice. How could I do that?

And how could _she_? She outed me, she broke up with me, she—

Jess came over and gingerly sat beside me on the couch. I didn't look at her, but I didn't beat her with a cushion and drive her off with curse words either. She looked at the unwrapped gifts on the coffeetable, and she seemed to contemplate a comment about the crotchless lavender silk thong sitting there. But she thought twice and turned to me with a sympathetic face and voice.

"Listen," she said. "I know a lot about break ups. And if there's one thing I know, it's that a couple never breaks up over a fight. The fight is just a symptom that something else is wrong, and the important thing is whether that something can be fixed. If it can, then it wasn't even a fight. It was just overreaction. So trust me on this, okay? I have no idea what you guys were fighting about, but I'm positive there's no way you're breaking up over this. Just give her some time to chill and you'll be back together in no time, okay?

I looked at her. She must've seen the hope in my face because she smiled and rubbed my back and went on with more confidence.

"Seriously," she said. "I've seen you guys together, you're perfect for each other. There's no way this is the end. I'd bet my life on it."

At first this made so much sense that I almost smiled. I guess I wanted to believe it. But then I remembered everything Alice had said to me as I stood on her doorstep and my hope crashed as quickly as it came.

"But what if she's right?" I said. "What if we're in two different places, and…"

I trailed off, a lump rising in my throat. I didn't even want to say it.

"Is that what she told you?" Jess asked gently.

I nodded and plucked another tissue. I blew my nose and sniffed. "She said I'm not ready" I said. "Because I told my mother she was just a friend."

Jess screwed up her face. "Really? Jeez, you'd think she'd understand."

"It's not her fault," I said, for some reason compelled to defend her. "I said it in a bad way. As if she was nothing to me. Then she got upset and told my mother that I was…"

I trailed off again. Jess's eyes went wide.

"She _outed_ you?" she said in disbelief. "To your own _mother_? Wow. I kind of assumed _you_ would be the bad guy in all this. But damn. What a bitch."

It's nice when your friends take your side, but that was my soulmate she was talking about.

"Jess," I said.

She heard the warning in my voice and backed off. "Sorry," she said, and then something occurred to her and she lit up with a smile. "But this is good news!" she cried, giving me a hearty pat on the back. "If it's mostly her fault, it's only a matter of time before she comes crawling back to apologize. You are going to forgive her, right?"

I was shaking my head. More details were coming back to me and despite her optimism it was beginning to seem more hopeless than ever.

"It's not that simple," I said. "She told me it was doomed from the beginning. Because I had no experience and I'm not comfortable. I don't know, maybe she's just sick of being patient with me. Maybe she wanted to break up with me for a long time and it just happened to be now. Maybe—"

"Maybe you should shut up for a sec and listen to me," Jess interrupted.

I gave her a dry look. It was the closest she'd come to cheering me up.

"Listen, Bella," she said. "You guys are meant for each other. It was me that set you up, remember? I had two friends who were single, you and her, and I knew right from the beginning that—"

"You did it as a joke," I cut in, frowning at her. "You were being a bitch."

This bought her up a little short, but only a little. Obviously she'd already twisted the event in her mind so that she seemed like the ultimate matchmaker.

"Well, it was partly a joke maybe," she admitted. "But I did have a vibe about you two. I probably knew subconsciously that you guys were designed for each other."

I sighed and looked down at the coffeetable. Alice would've looked so hot in that crotchless thong. I can't believe it's over. I sniffed and reached for another tissue.

"But seriously, Bella," Jess went on, jostling me by the shoulder. "You guys are perfect for each other. One little fight doesn't change that. Okay?"

I looked at her and didn't answer. I loved Alice, I truly did. Those feelings were never going to go away. But…

Jess must've seen the cowardice in my eyes, because she snatched the tissue and threw it on the ground and took both my hands in hers.

"Promise me," she said. "I'll never forgive you if you let her go over something like this. I love you guys. I want you to be happy. Just promise me you won't give up. You have to fight for her, okay? Promise me you'll fight for her."

I blinked back tears at the raw emotion in her voice. I had never seen Jess like this. I always knew that she was a great girl deep down, but this was the first time I had seen her act like it. It was almost as if she truly cared about me and wanted me happy.

And more importantly, she might be right. Alice was everything to me, there's no way I could let her go. Maybe it won't be tonight or tomorrow, but sometime she _will_ have to speak to me, and when she does there would be nothing else to do but plead and plead and beg for her to take me back.

Most of all, I had to make her understand how much I loved her. We both made mistakes yesterday, but it didn't matter. We belonged together.

I could actually feel the hope kindle inside me like a small flame. I smiled at Jess, thankful to have a friend like her. Despite all the little things that annoyed me and despite the fact that she always came over and ate my food, she really was a girl's best friend. She was still holding my hands and I gave her a nod.

"I promise," I said. "Thanks, Jess. You really are my best friend."

She beamed radiantly. I didn't often admit out loud how much I appreciated her and she seemed delighted to hear it, especially now when I needed it most.

"I know," she said, with a slight and cute smugness. "Come here."

She hugged me. I rested my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes. She really was a nice girl, Jess. So warm and sweet. I wish I hadn't been so mean to her all the time.

"Everything's gonna be great," she said, patting my back. "You'll see. Besides, Alice is too smart to let it fall apart like this. She was probably just upset. She'll apologize, trust me."

I made a sound of agreement. She kissed my cheek and disengaged the hug. She smiled at me, her arms loosely around my neck. I smiled back, still amazed that she had turned out to be such a wonderful friend. She leaned and kissed my cheek again. I guess she was an affectionate mood this morning. She kissed my cheek one more time, closer to my mouth. Okay. That was a little weird. She kissed me again and I felt a shiver of panic. Her lips had touched the corner of my mouth. I kind of knew what was happening, but I was too shocked to believe it. She kissed me again, this time flush against my lips, and—

I pushed her back gently. "Um, Jess?" I said. "What the fuck are you doing?"

A blush crept over her cheeks. "Uh, you know," she said. "I was…"

"Taking advantage of me while I'm vulnerable?"

"No!" she blurted, really embarrassed now. Then she chuckled and shuffled backwards on the couch. "Come on, you weren't thinking it?"

I honestly had no fucking clue what she was thinking. "Thinking what?"

"You know," she said. "You're gay, I'm kind of bi-ish. I thought I could, you know. Make you feel better."

I looked at her as if she was insane. The chick was practically my baby sister. How could she even—

There was a knock on the door.

Both Jess and I swung our heads to the sound. My heart stopped. Could it be Alice? Could she be here to apologize and take me back and close forever this gaping pit in my stomach?

"Maybe that's Alice," Jess whispered.

I got up from the couch and hurried over to the door, my heart pounding. I opened it, praying with all my might that it would be Alice, and—

It wasn't.

It was Leah.

She was standing there in jeans and a leather jacket, her dark hair long and wild, and she gave me a dude-like chin jut as a greeting. I blinked and held the door open, not knowing at all how I felt about this.

"Leah," I said. "What are you doing here?"

Sighing, she looked at the floor and looked at the doorframe. As if she'd come to check my hinges. She didn't look very comfortable, and it was a strange look on the uber-confident bisexual brunette.

"I was over at Alice's place," she said. "She's pretty upset. I wanted to talk to you."

I had stepped back to let her in and a tiny bit of hope began to smolder in my stomach. Leah had always been my main rival for Alice, but she obviously wasn't here to gloat. Nothing about her words or posture suggested that Alice had rebounded and bounced into her arms. Which meant she had some other reason to be here.

But what?

Jess had rose from the couch and she smiled at Leah. "Oh hey," she said. "You're Alice's friend, right? We met a couple times, I think. What was your name again, um…"

"Leah," Leah said.

Jess snapped her fingers. "That's it!" she giggled. "Leah." Another giggle. "Hi."

Leah nodded and gave her a small smile. Jess was acting a little odd and Leah seemed to pick up on it. "Hey," she said, and she glanced at me as hinting to get rid of the girl.

Jess must've noticed because she quickly startled to life and headed for the door. "Well, uh, I'll let you guys talk," she said. "I'll try calling Alice again."

She had moved past Leah and she leveled a look at Leah's ass. I frowned. Jess opened the door, grinned at the other woman's ass, and mouthed at me:

 _Oh my god._

I agreed with her, but I gestured with my hand for her to be gone. She ducked out and closed the door behind her. That girl had issues. I read somewhere once that most women who have a lesbian experience never repeat it. Jess wasn't one of those women and I had a feeling she was due for another fix pretty soon.

Leah was wandering over to the coffeetable. "So how you doing?" she asked, evidently referring to my emotional state.

I crossed my arms and looked at her. I trusted Leah to some extent, but we certainly weren't besties or anything similar. And I still had no idea why she was here.

"Not good," I said.

She nodded, still looking at the gifts on the coffeetable. "What's this stuff?"

"Christmas presents," I said. "For Alice."

Leah picked up the lacy lavender thong and let it dangle from a finger. She looked at it with approval and gave me a little smirk.

"Not bad," she said.

I appreciated the attempt at friendliness, but it didn't set me at ease very much. "What are you doing here, Leah?" I said, getting to the point.

Leah sighed and let the underwear drop. She turned to me, her expression disappearing.

"Look," she said. "I love Alice. Always have. I just want her to be happy."

I frowned. I didn't understand what she was getting at, but after a brief pause to collect her thoughts, she went on.

"I came here," she said, "to make sure you're not gonna let her throw this relationship away."

That took me by surprise. My mouth even fell open a little.

"You guys belong together," Leah said. She swallowed visibly. "It's hard for me to admit that, but it's true. Alice has never loved anyone like she loves you. Trust me, I can tell. I know I've been a bitch to you in the past, but that's only because I thought you weren't good enough for her. To be honest, I still don't think you are."

I still had my arms crossed. "Thanks."

She ignored that. "Point is," she said, "it doesn't matter what I think. It's what Alice thinks that matters, and Alice loves you. She really does."

"Then why did she…"

"I don't know," Leah interrupted. "Alice is weird. She's had her heart broken too many times. It makes her scared to risk getting it broken again. I guess she thought it would be easier to break it now than wait till later when it would hurt even more."

I exhaled a long breath, dropping my grumpy facade. My arms dangled at my sides and I shook my head. My head was beginning to throb and even though she had a point I could feel the crushing black hopelessness fall over me once again.

"I know what you're saying," I said. "But…"

"But what?"

Tears prickled my eyes. "Don't you think it might be best if I let her go?" I asked in a small voice. " I mean, how can you be positive she loves me? She told me to my face that I'm not the right woman for her. Maybe she—"

But the other woman didn't want to hear any of that.

"Look," she interrupted brusquely. "Leave the girlish insecurity to Alice, alright? Trust me, I know her a lot better than you do. This whole thing is all in her head. What you need to do is man up and take back your woman. You understand?"

I was caught off guard slightly—and a little perplexed at the notion of manning up—but I nodded.

"I think so," I said.

She nodded back. "Good."

With that, she seemed to think it was settled. She glanced about my apartment with a frown, as if to distract herself. She obviously still had feelings for Alice and it couldn't have been easy for her to put them aside and choose Alice's happiness over her own. If she wanted to she might've even been able to take advantage of Alice while she had a chance. But she didn't. Instead she came here to try and convince me not to give up on the girl she loved. That we both loved. It was really very noble and I felt myself warm slightly. Not only at her selflessness, but at her confidence that Alice and I truly did belong together.

But, of course, it wasn't quite that simple.

"So, um," I began. "How? How am I supposed to fight for her when she won't even answer my calls? When I went over there, she wouldn't even let me through the door."

Leah sighed and avoided my face, as if this part was even harder for her.

"Don't worry," she said, "I've got an idea about that. RollerRats arranged a bout at KeyArena on New Year's Eve. She'll be there. You make sure you're there too, and…we'll do something special. Something she can't say no to. Something that'll set at ease once and for all."

She nodded at this, as if her idea made perfect sense. I guess I would have to wait for her to explain it to me, but already I could see a flaw.

"But will she even feel like skating?" I asked.

Leah snorted a chuckle. "Are you kidding? This is why they invented derby. So women can work through their issues with violence. Alice is gonna have the bout of her life."

I nodded. Alice had once told me something similar, that no matter what was going on in her life she could always let it go on the derby deck. I nodded again and smiled at Leah.

"Thank you, Leah," I said. "This means a lot to me."

Leah snorted again, not really a chuckle this time. She was looking out the window where the snow was sifting silently against the frosted glass.

"Yeah, well," she mumbled. "I just want her to be happy."

I felt a pang in my heart, but I decided to leave it at that. Leah was a tough kind of chick and I didn't think she was type to dwell on her feelings out loud, especially not with me. So I tried a smile and deflected the topic.

"What about you, have you met anyone new lately?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Not really."

I smirked, an idea occurring to me. I went and got a ballpoint pen from the kitchen counter and came back and took Leah's hand. She looked at me in surprise, perhaps astounded that I had the balls to touch her, and I wrote down a phone number on her palm.

"Here," I said. "Give this girl a call sometime. Her name's Jess."

"Wasn't that the blonde who was just in here?"

I nodded, smiling at my genius. Jess thought she was such a mastermind for setting me up with a chick. Now the joke was on her. It made perfect sense, really. Jess had been developing quite a lezzy vibe lately and Leah was definitely her type. Tall, dark, hunky. But with tits and tight jeans. Jess might actually really like her.

"She's mostly straight," I said, "but she _really_ needs a chick in her life."

Leah liked the sound of that. She smiled and looked at the number on her palm.

"I'll give her a call," she said.

—

Chapter 37:

—

The day after Christmas dawned with renewed hope and a fierce determination to win back my bitch at any cost. Leah had succeeded in convincing me that Alice was a silly and insecure damsel in distress and all she needed was a big strong knight to swoop her up onto a horse and carry her off to a magic castle, and I woke up that morning absolutely determined to be the knight she needed. I felt so manly I almost peed standing up.

Well, not quite. But I did feel strangely strong and fearless.

Leah's plan was brilliant. Not only would it get me Alice back, but it would also make one of Alice's fondest dreams come true. It sucked that I couldn't have come up with the plan myself, but it was nice that Leah had the opportunity to demonstrate how dearly she really loved Alice. She told me that breaking up with Alice was the biggest mistake she had ever made and now that's why Alice would never trust her again. But now Alice had found me, and it was up to me to make Alice happy. To be the woman Alice deserved. Leah's speech almost had me in tears. She truly did only want Alice to be happy. Alice was lucky to have a friend like her.

I thought about Leah over breakfast, and that made me think about my other friends. I didn't have many, aside from Jess and Angela. Jess had turned out to be my guardian angel, but Angela had turned out to be little more than a token homophobe. It was a shame, really. We had been best friends ever since college, sisters practically. She had edited my first book, supported me, loved me, inspired me. Now she hardly even talked to me unless it was to somehow fix me with me up with her boss. Chick was obsessed with that dude.

But ten years of friendship doesn't dissolve overnight, so I took advantage of my ballsy mood and gave her a call to invite her shopping with me. I was gonna do a total tough bitch dyke makeover and I thought it would be nice for Angela to be there. Hopefully she'll get the hint and provide me with the necessary support and understanding one would expect from a close friend.

Or not.

"Combat boots?" Angela whined, severely unimpressed. "Isn't that a little cliché?"

I was sitting down and lacing them up in a shoe store. We had already done the clothes shopping and the trunk of my car was filled with assorted dyke-wear, lots of black leather and tops that were cut to expose tattoos and bare the midriff. I'd have to work on my abs a little, but I tried it all on, and it looked pretty hot on me. Lesbian chic.

I snorted at Angela's comment about cliché and finished tying the boots. "I hope so," I said. "The whole point is so she can see how gay I am."

Angela shook her head. So far she had been very sparing with the support and understanding, and I was beginning to suspect she might be a lost cause.

"This is wrong Bella," she said. "A woman should never change herself to suit her partner. Don't you have any self-respect? If she can't accept you for who you are, then…"

She had a point, I guess. I'd often given the same lecture to Jess. Whenever she dated someone new she'd always subtly alter herself. She would suddenly enjoy the kinds of movies he likes, even if she had hated them before. She'd go to restaurants where she didn't like the food and pretend she had always loved the food there.

But this was different. Alice wasn't taking advantage of me and I wasn't changing myself. I was embracing myself. It was denial that was trying to change me, but that was over now. So I stood up from the stool in my new combat boots and looked at my best friend who just couldn't understand.

"This _is_ who I am, Ange," I told her gently. "It just took me a long time to realize, that's all."

She shook her head again. Not even trying to understand.

"If you say so," she said. "Just promise me you won't cut your hair, okay?"

I sighed and turned to the mirror, posing in my boots. I was wearing a heavy hoody with the hood down and a black crop top and skinny jeans. Together with the boots I did indeed look like quite a dyke. Or maybe that was just my imagination. I'd look a lot gayer once I was holding Alice's hand. A lesbian's best accessory will always be her girlfriend.

"The hair stays," I said. "Alice loves my hair. I've got something better in mind."

Angela frowned at me in the mirror.

"Like what?"

I smiled and started unlacing the boots for purchase.

Ten minutes later we were at a tattoo parlor. Angela was so mortified that she couldn't even talk me out of it. She had followed along behind me, staring at the establishment in disapproval. It was a long wait until the artist was free and I spent a long time browsing the designs. But I already knew what I wanted.

A butterfly.

I was wearing the necklace Alice had given me and I fingered it as I moved through the parlor. Touching it reminded me that she loved me and she was hurt and she was waiting for me to make it all better. I was so tempted to call her or go over to her apartment, but Leah was right. Right now she would be too embarrassed at how badly she overreacted, and it was going to take a few days for her to cool off. Timing was everything. But soon, very soon. On New Year's Eve, in front of her derby team and all her friends. I was going to give her the most romantic moment she had ever dreamed of.

The parlor was fairly crowded and since the lead artist and owner was a woman most of her clientele was female as well. Angela seemed to be extremely uncomfortable even stepping foot in the premises. One of the clients was on a table lying face down in a hot pink thong while one of the artists needled a design into her ass. Angela looked as if it was the most indecent thing she had ever seen, but I only smiled. I was a lot more open-minded lately.

But it was still a long wait. I never realized these places were so busy, but apparently you're supposed to make an appointment first. The parlor also did piecing's and while I waited I browsed the selection of studs they had for sale. They had one of an iron butterfly, and I bought it instantly. My ears were already pierced and I put it on right away, smiling in the mirror. I put it on my right ear, of course, and I almost laughed at how gay I felt. Funny how it had all worked out. One minute I'm in complete denial, the next minute I'm lesbian incarnate. I suppose much of the denial had been fear, but what was left to be afraid of? My parents knew, my friends knew, and I had achieved a level of confidence where I didn't need anyone's approval, not my mother's, not Angela's, not anybody's. The only thing I needed was Alice.

And a tattoo. For some reason I felt that very strongly, as if the tattoo itself might complete the transformation. Or at the very least symbolize it's completion.

The designs on offer were nicely feminine and there were a few butterflies to choose from. It didn't take me long to pick the blue one. It was dark blue, almost a shade of violet. Blue was a cool color and I thought it would suit me. I was going to get it on my stomach and to the side a little. Alice had given me butterflies ever since I first saw her, and after I got the tattoo, the butterflies would be there forever.

"This is gonna be perfect," I said to Angela, unable to contain my excitement. "Alice loves butterflies. They symbolize transformation and they're kind of gay too."

Angela shook her head. She'd been doing that all day.

"Come on, Bella, this is going too far," she said. "She doesn't even want to date you anymore. Why not just move on? Listen, do you still have Mr Masen's number? I'm sure he'd love to—"

"Not one word, Ange," I interrupted. "Not one fucking word."

We still hadn't talked about her stunt at the holiday party and just the reminder made my insides boil. I had forgiven her, of course, but that didn't change the fact that she had betrayed our friendship by attempting to sabotage the best relationship I've ever been in. Alice was upset for days after that incident. It was probably one of the biggest reasons why she was so quick to break up with me.

But none of this seemed to occur to Angela. She knew she did wrong, but she had no idea how wrong.

"Fine," she said grudgingly. "But listen to me, Bella. This is wrong. You're upset, you're depressed. Just take some time to get over it before you rush into anything."

I shook my head, looking at the chart of designs on the wall. The parlor with filled with the hum of needles and soon it would be my turn. No way was I backing out.

"I'm done hesitating, Ange," I said. "From now on, it's all or nothing."

"But she doesn't even love you, Bella," Angela went on. "She dumped you, remember?"

I clenched my teeth. I was so close to slapping this bitch. How could she be so fucking callous?

"She's just afraid, that's all," I said, trying to keep my voice level and patient. "All I need to do is show her how serious I am. She named a star after me, Ange. Of course she loves me. Did any guy ever name a star after _you_?"

It was a bit of a low blow, but I couldn't resist. Angela was convinced that a girl-girl relationship wasn't a real relationship, and I wanted to make her understand. It didn't matter that we were both women. Our relationship was no less valid than any other, and our love was no less strong.

But of course she didn't understand. As usual, she didn't even try. She just frowned and crossed her arms and went on with her usual homophobic nonsense.

"Fine," she said, "but this isn't the way. Come on, Bella. Are you seriously going to deface your body to please some silly dyke who doesn't even want to date you anymore?"

Okay. That was too far.

I turned around with my hoody and combat boots and my new attitude of fierce lesbian pride and looked at her.

"What did you say?" I said.

My tone was quite menacing, but unfortunately Angela knew me well enough to know I wasn't quite capable of murder.

"Alright, don't get carried away with the bad girl routine," she said. "I'm only trying to help. I care about you, Bella."

It was sad, really. She truly believe that.

Problem is, I was done indulging her.

"Angela," I said. "I've been very patient with you for a long time, but I've had enough. If you can't accept me as a lesbian, then we're gonna have to stop being friends. Because I'm not gonna put up with this. I keep giving you chances to support me and be the best friend you always were and all you've done is convince me what a stupid fucking homophobic bitch you are."

"Bella, there's no need to—"

"No, I think there is a need," I interrupted. "I'm gay, Ange. Deal with it or fuck off."

Angela looked upset. She also glanced around to see if anyone overheard the word gay. In a place like this I doubt it would've stunned anyone. Obviously my words made no impact on her whatsoever, but it didn't matter. Only seconds later the tattoo artist—a young woman with bleached hair and multiple piercings in her nose—informed me that she was ready for me now.

I looked at Angela one more time. She didn't meet my eyes. I left her there and let the artist lead me to the back.

I had just lost my best friend from college, but honestly, it only took a couple minutes to get over it. The tattoo artist was a friendly kind of chick and while she worked she asked me if the tattoo had any personal significance. I smiled and told her the whole story. About how I had met a girl and even though I was straight at the time I had fallen madly in love with her. I showed her the necklace Alice had given me. I told her that the butterfly symbolized transformation and the tattoo was a way of making sure I never forgot how she made me feel.

I was laid back on a bench and the woman was hunched over my stomach with a big electric needle. She nodded at my explanation and smiled and made friendly conversation. The needle hurt, but not as much as I thought it would. Maybe I really am a bad ass.

When she was done, she showed me in the mirror. The skin around the tattoo was very red and inflamed, but once all that went away, I could see how perfect it would look. I smiled and touched the area around it gingerly, avoiding the wet ink. It was positioned on my lower abdomen with its violet wings spread. Just to the right of my belly button. The artist asked if I was happy with it, and I nodded eagerly. Alice was gonna love it.

I thanked the woman and paid and as I was passing through the front of the parlor I was surprised to see Angela had waited for me. She had struck up a conversation with a bald woman who had eyes tattooed on the back of her head, but she broke off when she saw me. She excused herself and came over. She didn't say anything, but she did look a little abashed.

Together we went out into the mall and stood around in silence. Christmas music was playing and the mall was filled with shoppers taking advantage of the after-Christmas sales. I waited for Angela to say something. She adjusted her handbag self-consciously and breathed out.

"I just want you to be happy, Bella," she said. "Is that really so awful?"

It was such a ridiculous statement that I had to smile.

"Alice makes me happy," I told her. "Nobody has ever made me happier than Alice. Please try to understand that, Ange."

She nodded, but I could tell that even now she wasn't trying. But at the very least she had decided to pretend.

"Alright," she said. "If that's how you feel…I won't say anything."

It was probably the best I was going to get, so I decided to take it.

"Thanks, Ange."

"Friends?" she asked hesitantly.

I chuckled. "Friends."

She smiled and gave me a hug. I hugged her back. Nice to be friends again. I suppose I could be understanding. It took me a long time to adjust and I was the one it was actually happening to. Angela probably just needed some time. More time with Alice. Once she spends some time with Alice and sees how happy I am with her, then she'll understand. And with that thought, I smiled and released the hug.

"Listen," I said, excitement creeping into my voice. "Do you think you can get a sitter for New Year's Eve? Alice has a derby bout at the KeyArena. I've got something special planned, it's gonna be a big moment for us. You have to be there."

Angela blushed and demurred. "No, no, that's okay," she said. "That roller derby stuff isn't really my kind of thing."

I grinned and swatted her shoulder. "Come on, Ange," I said. "I've got a surprise for her. It's gonna be like a movie."

She still shook her head, not even considering it. "That's okay," she said. "Me and Ben were just gonna have a quiet night with the kids. Lily hasn't been feeling well lately. I think it's the flu. Ben might be coming down with it too. I think we'll just have a quiet night."

I nodded slowly and let my smile slip away. Angela looked away, uncomfortable and trying to hide it. So much for reconciliation. Oh well. A girl can't help the way she feels. I knew that better than anyone.

"Well, we'll have lunch sometime and I'll tell you what happens," I said.

She brightened up at that. "Sounds good to me," she said. "You going home now?"

I took a deep breath and looked across the mall. There was one more thing I had to do and it was the most important thing of all. Even just thinking about it made my body glow with excitement.

"Not yet," I said. "I've got one more stop. I'll see you around, okay?"

She nodded and gave me a quick hug.

"Okay," she said. "Just promise me you won't cut your hair."

I chuckled and shook my head. "I won't," I said. "Later, Ange."

She waved and walked away, headed for the parking lot and blending into the crowd of milling shoppers. I watched her go. Our friendship was never going to be the same, but I thought it would survive. Sad, but I guess nothing's forever.

Well, some things are. Like Alice.

It still hurt that she had dumped me the way she did, but I was beginning to understand. It must've been so hard for her being so patient with me. Not knowing if it would last. Not knowing if I ever truly loved her. But I did. I did and I always will, and it was time to convince her of that. No more hesitation, no more anxiety. It was time to make her mine forever.

Nodding to myself, I made my way through the mall to the last stop on my list. I wished I had more time to browse and do this properly, but the bout was only days away and I had to be prepared. So I took a deep breath, mustered my courage, and entered the store.

It was a jewelry shop.

—

Chapter 38:

—

The last few days of that year were the longest days in my life. I could think about nothing but Alice. The temptation to call her was almost overwhelming, but I didn't. I didn't want to ruin the surprise. So I called Leah instead, sometimes upwards four times a day, and demanded status updates on Alice and how Alice was feeling. She told me Alice was heartbroken and deeply regretful over what happened. But she was hurt that I had apparently given up on her so easily and that's why she hadn't called to apologize. She really thought I was better off without her.

But she was wrong, oh god was she wrong. I was so tempted to rush over to her apartment and take her back without wasting a single second more, but Leah convinced me to wait. Till the moment was perfect.

It was hard, but I did it. I waited out the last days of the year with a feverish impatience, constantly glancing at the clock, longing for the days to pass quicker. I spent most of my time at my computer, working on a new novel. I had been midway through one before the fight, but I had lost all interest in it. Hetero romance just didn't do it for me anymore. It wasn't fun, it didn't make me feel anything. There had been an idea in my head for a long time that I had been dying to write, and finally I felt ready to write it. It was a plain story, no vampires, no wolves, no supernatural pretty boys of any kind. It was a simple story about two women who meet and fall in love. One of the women was an idiot who is heavy in denial and the other woman was the cutest lesbian in existence.

Obviously, it was based on me and Alice.

The story flowed surprisingly fast, and it helped pass the time. I wrote it very rough, just letting my emotions and experience pour onto the page. Or keyboard. I got a bit carried away with descriptions of Alice, perhaps, but it was only the first draft and she really is that fucking perfect. Writing the story rekindled all the emotions I had felt and fought against since I met her, and several times I had to dab my eyes with a knuckle. God, what an idiot I had been. I was tempted to force my alter ego to correct all my mistakes and simply jump into bed with her as soon as heavenly possible, but I didn't. I wanted to be as honest as I could. Alice was going to read this someday, published or not, and I wanted her to know exactly how irresistible her sexy lesbian ass had been.

I had written over fifty pages in four days, which was a new record for me. I was up to the point where "Alex" and "Bobbi" were on their first real date and I was rushing like a bull toward the first sex scene. There was nothing I loved to write more than sex scenes and this one was gonna be hot. I was blushing already, recalling the odd mixture of lust and disgust I had felt when I first went down on Alice. I never thought I would ever get comfortable with it, but I did, I certainly did. I'd gotten more than comfortable with it, I'd come to like it, enjoy it, crave it like—

A knock on the door snapped me out of my trance. I felt a flicker of hope, but I smothered it quickly. I knew it wasn't Alice. Jess had been out with Leah today, and she said she was gonna come over as soon as she got home. As eager as I was to continue writing, I had to admit I was curious about how it went.

"Use your key!" I called out.

Jess unlocked the door and came in. Usually she dressed kind of trashy for a date, even just to get drinks. But this time she looked more like she was dressed for a job interview. Plain blue jeans, a neat green turtle neck. A coat, a scarf, a cute little beanie on her blonde head. She actually looked like a grown up for once.

"Hey," she said, and I could tell immediately she was a little weirded out. "You busy?"

I glanced at the computer screen with a pang of longing. So close to the sex scene. I had been so excited to relive the experience of having my world rocked, but I guess it could wait a few minutes.

"Kind of," I said. "How'd it go with Leah?"

She shrugged coyly and wandered over to my desk. "I don't know," she said, and leaned to peer at the screen. "Whatcha writing?"

Not a very subtle deflection, but I smiled. I scrolled to the top of the document and leaned back in my officechair to let her see. The working title was _Going Lezbo_ , but of course I'd change that.

"New story," I said. "It's based on me and Alice. What do you think?"

Jess frowned and skimmed a paragraph and began to read a sentence out loud. " _I knew from the second I looked into her warm, brown, beautiful, hypnotic eyes that somehow_ …" She trailed off and gave me a skeptical look. "Four adjectives to describe her eyes? Bit amateurish, don't you think?"

I snorted and minimized the document. Since when is Jess a fucking editor?

"Fuck you," I said. "She deserves every adjective."

Jess chuckled and leaned her hip on the edge of the desk. There was a small velvet jewelry box beside the keyboard and she smiled at it for a second.

"I love that confidence you have," she said. "You really believe she's your soulmate, don't you? Even though you're not even together anymore. Technically."

I looked at the box and nodded. My heart swelled a little and I smiled.

"Yeah," I said. "I truly believe that."

"That's amazing. I wish I had that."

I chuckled. "You will one day," I told her, and then smirked. "Till then, how'd it go with Leah?"

She gave another shrug, still perched on the edge of my desk. She picked up a snowglobe paperweight and turned it upside down. "Well, we had coffee," she said.

I waited for more, but she seemed too distracted by the snowy village in her hands. I smiled and shook my head. Whenever she dated a guy, I could hardly get her to shut up about him. Now she has a date with a girl and I might have to resort to torture to get details out of her.

"And?" I urged.

Another shrug. "And you know," she said. "It was weird."

I felt a surprising flicker of glee at that. Revenge is a tasty dish indeed. It was funny, because I really didn't think it would be weird for her. I honestly thought she would be pretty into it.

"Why weird?" I asked.

She looked at me as if I was dumb. "Err, because she's a chick?"

"So?" I said. "That's never stopped you in the past."

"That's different."

"How?" I asked, honestly confused.

She frowned and set down the snowglobe. "It was never a date, for starters," she said. "And I was drunk. And it was an accident, both times. I never did it deliberately. Besides, I don't even know this Leah chick. How can I hook up with someone I don't even know?"

"So get to know her."

"But then I'd be dating her."

"So date her."

"But I'm not gay."

I laughed. I literally giggled. It seemed like only yesterday I was going through the same thing and it was remarkable how delightful it was to see Jess go through it too. Well, not quite the same. To her, Leah was just a chick. To me, Alice was the woman on whom my entire future happiness depended.

Jess gave me a dry look, so similar to the many looks I'd given her, and I managed to wipe away my grin.

"So you're not gonna see her again?" I asked.

At this she gave a wince of uncertainty. Then she shrugged, sighed, shrugged one more time, and took a deep breath.

"Well," she said. "I didn't say that."

I smirked. Yep. She's bi alright.

"So you _are_ seeing her again?"

She took off her beanie and huffed out a breath. Her hair was disheveled from the rough removal of her wooly headgear, but she didn't notice. "I'm not sure yet," she said. "Leah wants to. She was very, um…aggressive? She said they were gonna go out for drinks after that derby game and that I should go with her. But that's New Year's Eve. You know?"

I thought about it for a second. But, no, I didn't know.

"What do you mean?" I said. "Do you have other plans?"

"No, but…"

"But what?"

She gave me another look. Obviously I was missing something obvious here.

"Come on, Bella," she said. "It's New Year's Eve and she wants to go out drinking. What if she expects me to put out?"

I nodded, but that only confused me more. Wasn't she just saying that she was cool with sex but not dating? It seemed like a perfect solution; get to know her over a few drinks and accidently sleep with her. It seemed pretty logical to me, but the poor girl was obviously confused. I began to feel a little bad about it. I never meant to actually complicate her life.

"Sorry, Jess," I said. "I gave her your number because I thought you could have some fun together. I didn't think it would be complicated for you."

She snorted at herself and shook her head. "Yeah, me either," she said. "When she called, it didn't seem like a big deal. But the more I thought about it, the more weird it got. I mean, it was a date. I always thought I was just open-minded and kind of slutty, but what if I'm actually…?"

She trailed off and I smiled.

"What, bi?"

She nodded. She was holding her beanie in her lap and her small blonde face was flushed and cutely troubled. "Well, yeah," she said. "I mean, I never once pictured myself in a relationship with a woman, but now I had an actual date with one. And it wasn't even that bad. It was even fun. Just like a normal date."

By now I was beginning to notice some discrepancies in her story. So I lifted a hand for her to slow down and tried to gather my thoughts.

"Wait a second," I said. "I thought you said it was weird? Now you're saying it was normal?"

To me, it seemed like an outright contradiction. But my confused best friend nodded eagerly, as if I was finally beginning to understand.

"That's what was so weird about it," she said. "The fact that it felt kind of normal."

Well. Becoming a lesbian obviously hadn't helped me understand how the fuck it happens. Because I had no clue what Jess was talking about. So I scratched my head, struggled for something to say that didn't make me sound like a dumb ass, and said:

"You're not making much sense, Jess."

Luckily, she agreed.

"I know," she said, shaking her head. "I'm confused."

Good to know I wasn't the only one. Still, I felt a little responsible for what happened, so I felt obligated to give her at least one bit of advice. "Listen," I said. "Leah won't make you do anything you don't want to do, so why not just go out and have some fun? Just pretend she's a friend and see how it goes."

She sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I will," she said. "She's pretty cool and I don't want to be alone for New Year's, anyway."

I smiled, thinking it was settled and I could finally get back to my story. Butterflies stirred in my stomach even at the thought of reliving my first time with Alice, and the feeling of butterflies only gave me more butterflies. My stomach was still a little tender, but the bandage was off and the tattoo was beautiful. After my shower this morning I had spent almost half an hour looking at it in the mirror. I couldn't wait for Alice to see it.

And I couldn't wait to get on with the story. My finger was poised over the mouse button, but Jess was still sitting on the edge of my desk. She seemed to have one last thing on her mind and after hesitating for a little bit she finally spoke.

"Hey, let me ask you something," she said. "How did you realize that you were…"

I raised an eyebrow. "Gay?"

"Yeah," she said. "I mean, how did you know for sure?"

I almost laughed. This was so weird. Jess was the girl with the gaydar. She had known about me way before I ever did. Now she was asking my advice? I shrugged.

"I don't know," I said. "I met Alice and that was it. It happened overnight, practically. Took me a while to come to terms with it, but the change was pretty much instant."

Jess nodded thoughtfully. "Hmmm," she said. "I guess that's not me."

I smiled and chuckled once. "Alice says it's different for everyone," I said, and then I remembered her exact words when I asked her these very same questions. "All you have to remember is that orientation doesn't change," I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about. "The only thing that changes is your understanding of it."

It made perfect sense, but it was a bit too Zen for Jess. She gave a puzzled frown and said:

"So does that mean I'm bi?"

This time I did laugh. "It means you'll figure it out," I said, and swiveled my chair to the computer pointedly. "But you might as well go out with Leah. You have to be there for the bout and you have no other plans."

She took the hint that I wanted her out so I could write, and she stood up from the desk and dusted her jeans as if she'd been sitting on a park bench. She was smiling at the mention of the bout and she picked up the small jewelry box from the desk.

"Yeah," she said. "Wouldn't want to miss the big moment."

She opened the box and looked inside. I watched, excitement swelling up inside me. Jess had seen it before, but she smiled and sighed.

"I'm really happy for you, Bella," she said. "Alice is a lucky girl."

I smiled and blushed. That wasn't true at all, but I wanted to believe it, so I let myself believe it. I had been a pretty sucky girlfriend for the first half of our relationship, but that was going to change. Relationships are difficult and gay relationships even more difficult, but I wasn't afraid anymore. I was ready to face those difficulties – together with Alice.

"Thanks, Jess," I said. "You want to stay for dinner?"

I was only asking to be polite. She smiled and shook her head.

"Nah, that's okay," she said. "I'll let you write."

She placed a kiss on the top of my head and exited through the front door. I smiled and spent a couple seconds thinking about her. If it wasn't for Jess, I never would've met Alice. She really was my best friend. The thought made me wish I'd put a bit more effort into her Christmas card this year, but oh well. Jess knows I love her.

So I went back to the story, scrolling to the bottom and quickly letting myself fall into the scene. It helped that I remembered our first date like it was yesterday. I remembered that exact dish she had cooked, the exact dress she had worn. I remembered the exact scent of her perfume. The exact feeling I felt as I put my arm around her shoulders for the first time as we cuddled on the couch and watched the movie. The excitement, the warmth, the feeling of complete and overwhelming rightness.

I sighed and went on, tapping away at the keyboard with a blush on my face and trembling fingers. The screen was getting blurry, but it was just my eyes. Reliving all this made me realize what a fool I was for not embracing it. For denying it and hoping it would go away. Alice deserved better, and soon, very soon she was going to get it.

I sniffed and wiped my eyes quickly. I saw the jewelry box sitting there and I stared at it for a second, feeling the butterflies stir in my stomach. It was going to be a long time before the novel was complete, but that's okay.

I didn't even know the ending yet.

—

Chapter 39:

—

I had waited and waited and finally it was time. New Year's Eve. I was a nervous wreck all day and I was showered and dressed a full hour before I had to leave for the bout. I was wearing skinny jeans and black boots with studs on them and a black hoody with a derby logo emblazoned across the back. The jewelry box was in my pocket and every few seconds I'd check to make sure it was still there.

The event had been dubbed _Seasons Beatings_ , and I had a program sitting on my kitchen counter. The photograph on the front featured the star jammer of the team in mid-jam. Alice. She was clad in her derby gear with a star on her helmet and for a long time I stared at her. But pretty soon there was a knock on the door and it was time to go.

Jess was catching a ride to the arena with me, and we were both quiet in the car. She was wearing a miniskirt and a sparkly pink top and she sat there with her hands in her lap, no doubt nervous that tonight she was going to go out drinking with a woman who quite clearly wanted to get into her pants. Me, I was nervous about other things. Tonight was the night I was going to confront Alice. I had something to ask her, and her answer was either going to break my heart or complete it. Realistically, I knew the odds were greatly in my favor, but it was hard not to be afraid.

Leah was waiting for us at the arena. We were early, but so were a lot of other people. A crowd had gathered in the parking lot, most of them just milling about in the cold air and waiting to go inside, clad in scarfs and coats, breath pluming in the cold. Families with children, husbands, parents, derby girls from rival teams, hockey players who had come to check out the chicks who skate in fishnets.

Jess and I approached the table where two girls with tattoos and multiple facial piercings were taking tickets. Leah watched us hand over our tickets. She was leaning against the wall with her arms folded and one foot propped up against the bricks behind her. We went over and slowly she unleaned from the wall. I had the butterfly stud in my right ear and I was wearing a pride bracelet on my right wrist and if it wasn't so fucking cold I would've worn a crop top to show off my tattoo. Leah took one look at me and my fashion statement and shook her head.

"What the fuck?" she said.

She grabbed my wrist and looked at the bracelet as if it was some kind of weird deformity. I felt self-conscious.

"Do I look stupid?" I asked.

Leah snorted and dropped my hand. "You look like Alice in highschool," she said. "Guess you're a late bloomer." Then she turned her attention to Jess. Jess was wrapped up in her coat and visibly freezing. She gave Leah a smile and Leah gave her a rakish grin. "Hey babe."

The tone and attitude was so identical to the boytoys she usually dated that it made her smile. She was about to reply, but Leah gave her a kiss on the lips to greet her properly.

"Oh," Jess said. "So you just—okay…"

Leah turned her grin to me, but I wasn't smiling. I was worried about Alice.

"How's Alice?" I asked.

Leah's grin went wider. "Moody, depressed, pissed at you for not calling her," she said. "It's gonna be great. Come on, get inside. Blend into the crowd. Don't let her see you till we're ready."

It was warmer inside and we all took off our coats. We got a couple beers at the concession stand and Jess bought a derby t-shirt with the logo of Alice's team on it. She put it on over the top of her pink halter, and I had to wonder if she wanted to show support for the team or if she was a little shy in her clubwear. The beer cups had the team logo on them too, and the old lady with dyed green hair behind the counter—one of the player's grandmother—cheerfully informed us that we got to keep them.

The inside of the arena was filling up and buzzing with activity. It was eight o'clock on New Year's Eve and it was a very festive atmosphere, everybody excited.

A derby track was smaller than a hockey rink, and the inside ring was taped off with a fancy kind of duct tape that had tiny sequins embedded in it. We passed small booths were mother's sold crafts and other derby accessories, shirts and tanks and cowbells, and we took seats in the bleachers overlooking the track. Some people were sitting around the edges of the rink itself on lawn chairs, but most were in the bleachers. A live band was playing music and little kids were running around the rink, looking for autographs from the skaters who were warming up, the skaters smiling and hitting the brakes to scribble something down on the programs handed to them by their small fans.

It was a large crowd and Jess and I blended right in. It was one of the most eclectic groups of people I had ever seen, from fathers with glasses and sweater vests, to women with dyed hair and metal studs in their faces. Jess wasn't the only woman in the audience wearing a miniskirt and she really had no need to feel self-conscious. At least hers wasn't shiny silver patent leather.

Some of the skaters were already warming up on the track and already my heart was in my throat as I tried to identify which one was Alice. I stood up on tiptoes, but it was hard to see. The lights were down and they were skating in a pack, all wearing their team hoodies and all with their hoods up, like some strange roller gang. I had my own hood up to avoid detection, and I tried to search for Alice's body type. They were skating in the other direction and finally my eyes landed on something I'd recognize anywhere.

Alice's ass.

Or maybe it was her compression shorts that I recognized. Either way, it was her. My heart slammed in my chest and a strong wave of emotion rolled over me that made my eyes prickle. This was the closest I'd been to her in a week. It had been agony not having her in my life these last couple days, but after tonight…After tonight, we were going to be together forever.

Jess was on tiptoes too, straining to see. "I can't see her," she said. "Which one is she?"

"That one," I said, gesturing with a nod. "The one in front."

"How can you tell?"

Because only Alice makes my heart beat this fast. Because only Alice skates like that. Because my soul was reaching out for hers, drawn to it like a magnet. But that was all a bit melodramatic, so I smiled and said:

"Only Alice has an ass that cute."

Jess giggled, but she didn't disagree.

An announce booth was set up off to the side of the track, a simple folding table with a couple cordless microphones. I even recognized one of the announcers. It was Jasper, the guy I met at Alice's parent's place at Thanksgiving. Alice had mentioned that he often volunteered at these events, either to referee or announce or even to man the concession stand.

Derby bouts were always announced live, and soon the announcer was introducing the players. They liked to make a small show of this part and the announcer introduced them like Michael Buffer. Jasper had a good voice and a good sense of showmanship.

Everyone was seated by now, clapping and cheering as names were called out and hoodies were thrown back. The skaters would smile and wave to the crowd as they were introduced one by one and finally the announcer introduced the hometeam's lead jammer – Alice.

"By day she studies the stars," called the announcer, " and by night she'll make you SEEstars. Her name izzzzzzzz Alice Cull'em!"

I started clapping numbly, staring at the figure in the rink who was removing her hood slowly. Her face was drawn as if she hadn't been sleeping well, but she smiled and waved to the crowd. She seemed to be looking for someone, but maybe that was my imagination. Jess whistled sharply and cheered along with everyone else. Alice was wearing heavy eyeblack and it was so obvious how sad she was. I wanted to run down there and win her back right now, but—

"You nervous?" Jess asked, noticing my expression.

I nodded, butterflies like a whirlwind in my stomach. "Yeah."

Jess patted my back. "Don't be," she said. "It's gonna be perfect."

I nodded again, but I kept my eyes on Alice.

After the introductions the teams lined up and held their helmets in their hands as everybody rose for the singing of the national anthem. They gave a microphone to a little girl, the daughter of one of the players, and she didn't miss a note. Chick should be on American Idol.

Finally it was time to kick off the bout. The players took their positions, the ref blew his whistle, and off they went.

Alice, as the lead jammer, was wearing a star on her helmet, and it was her job to score points by lapping the opposing team without getting fruited. Fruited was derby talk for when you get blocked by two opposing blockers. I had learnt a lot about the game since dating Alice, and I was seriously considering joining the team. When I had first seen them I thought I'd never fit in with these kinds of people, but it really does grow on you after a while. I could almost picture myself down there in fishnets and kneepads, viciously hipchecking any bitch who goes anywhere near my precious pixie.

Actually, it looked like Alice could use some help. She was usually very nimble on her skates, flowing through the blockers like quicksilver, but tonight she seemed distracted. She kept glancing at the crowd and letting her eyes flicker over the bleachers, as if someone important was supposed to be in the audience but hadn't shown up. I kept my hood up and stood there silently while everyone else cheered. Leah hadn't told her I'd be here, but obviously she'd been hoping. My grand romantic plan began to seem a little cruel, considering all it would've taken was a phone call to remove that haunted look from her eyes.

We were only ten minutes into the bout, but Alice hadn't even scored once. I began to get a bad feeling. If she got sent to the bench for the rest of the game, it was going to spoil the surprise.

Alice seemed to be aware that she wasn't doing so good, and she gave it one final push. She came blitzing around the track, her little face scrunched up in concentration. Two blockers were attempting to block her in and I put down my hood and stood on my toes to see better, hoping she'd get through.

"And here comes Alice Cull'em," called the announcer. "She is leading the jam and she's coming around the bend and—BOOM!"

Just as she tried to slip past she got hip bumped from two sides and spun out.

"Alice Cull'em squished like grape and there she goes out of bounds," Jasper announced over the microphone. "Get your head in the game, Ally!"

A collective gasp and chuckle went up from the crowd at the collision. Alice was on her hands and knees.

"Oooh," Jess winced beside me. "That had to hurt."

My heart was pounding in my chest. Alice wasn't injured, but she seemed to be in no hurry to get up. For some reason, this almost made me cry. She had always spoke of derby as the place where she could let go of her problems and just be herself, and yet here she was, unable to even—

She looked up.

My heart stopped.

It had to have been pure chance, but as soon as she looked up, her eyes locked onto mine. It was only for a brief second, but something changed in her face when she saw me. It wasn't happiness, it wasn't hope. It wasn't anger or hurt or anything like that. It was as if she had realized something.

I didn't know how to interpret it, but my heart quickly sped up and started galloping. Noticing me would ruin a little bit of the surprise, but maybe it would be better like this. I gave her a feeble smile and waved quickly. She looked at me for a moment and then looked away. She must've seen the desperation and naked love in my face, but what could it have meant to her?

I didn't know. Heart racing, I watched her get to her feet and dust herself off. She gave me one last look, her face hard and her eyes set, and then she turned and got back into the game.

I just hoped it was a good sign.

Jess noticed all this and gave me a nudge. "So when's the big moment?" she asked, speaking loudly over the crowd.

Me and Jess had already talked about it, but she seemed to be almost as anxious as me. "Half time," I said. "Leah organized everything. I just have to wait for her cue."

"Better be soon," Jess said. "She's gonna get killed out there if—"

But she was wrong. Alice was back out on the track and she had already overtaken the opposing blocker. Noticing me in the audience seemed to have lit a fire under her ass and she looked like she wanted to hurt someone.

"Whoa, watch out folks," called the announcer. "Alice Cull'em is up and with a vengeance. She is skating down the opposition, and—pow! Hell hath no fury like a fruited jammer."

Alice's small hips had absolutely destroyed the girl who got in her way and as she skated past she threw a glance up at the stands. Her dark eyes flashed at mine and I got the impression that hit was for me.

It made my heart flutter.

Derby bouts were composed of two thirty minute periods and soon we were approaching halftime. Butterflies were beating furiously in my stomach, knowing that any moment was the big moment, and I kept my eyes on Leah. After the first half was over, she skated over to the announce booth and spoke to Jasper. Then they both looked over at me. Jasper smiled and gave me a wave. Leah nodded, as if to ask if I was ready, and I nodded back.

Alice was standing by herself in the middle of the rink, drinking from a bottle of water and frowning. Leah skated over to her and said something. I didn't know what it was, but it seemed to alarm Alice. She gestured with a hand and said something back. There was no way to hear over the din of the arena, but I could tell she had raised her voice. Leah smiled and took the water bottle from Alice and passed it on to another smiling teammate.

"Is this it?" Jess whispered.

I didn't answer, I just took her arm and led her down the stairs toward the rink. I didn't know why I was bringing her along. I wasn't really thinking.

"Okay, folks, it's halftime," Jasper called over the PA system, smiling and making his voice flamboyant like a ringmaster. "But before the raffle, we have a special attraction planned. You see, one of our star skaters, little Alice Cull'em, had a tiff with her girlfriend Bella last week. It was a serious one, and for a while it looked like the relationship might be over. But Bella's got a surprise for Miss Cull'em, because Bella is in the audience right now, and as we understand, she has something very special she'd like to ask Miss Cull'em."

An excited murmur went up from the crowd and the butterflies in my stomach swirled into a cyclone. The question I needed to ask must've been pretty obvious. Derby proposals weren't particularly rare and it was a very close community. Everybody loved moments like these.

Leah had skated over to meet me and Jess at the edge of the rink. She had a scroll of cloth in her hand and she began to unfurl it, handing one end to Jess.

"Yo, Jess, gimme a hand," she said.

My eyes were locked across the rink at where Alice was standing there all alone. In the middle of the rink, small and cute in her helmet and kneepads and roller skates. Like a little girl. I tried to read her face, but she only looked scared.

Another gasp went up from the crowd and I realized that Jess and Leah had the banner unfurled. It was plain white cloth with words written across it in red paint and few red love hearts. The words said: _Will you marry me?_

"Come on," Leah said, "just follow me. And don't let her say no."

I blinked and felt a spasm of panic. "What?" I hissed. "You said she was gonna say yes!"

Leah winced, a strange expression on her face which had been painted like a skull. "It might be a little more complicated," she said. "Just don't take no for an answer, okay?"

There was no more time to talk. Leah and Jess were holding the banner high over my head and we were moving out across the rink toward Alice, Leah skating slowly and Jess trotting along either side of me. The entire arena was watching and gossiping in a noisy babble. I took a deep breath and tried to keep from fainting.

"Okay, guys," called the announcer, "how about a bit of music for em?"

The band took their cue and launched into a romantic ballad. A giggle went up from the audience, but Alice wasn't smiling. She skated forward to meet me, and I paused in place with my banner bearers. I tried to smile for her, but it was so hard. This was either going to be the happiest moment of my life or the most humiliating and heartbreaking. I had been so confident before tonight, so supremely confident. And now…

"Bella," she said, her voice washing over me in a wave of electricity. She looked at the sign above me and lowered her eyes to my face. "What are you doing?"

I chuckled awkwardly. This wasn't really how I'd pictured it.

"Um," I said. "Proposing?"

Alice looked down and let out a breath. Then she looked up at me, her eyes sad and lost. The crowd had gone quiet and an anxious murmur rustled through the arena as they realized something must be wrong.

"Come on," she said, "you know it's not that simple. I know this must be tough for you, especially on New Year's Eve, but it doesn't work this way."

Tears prickled my eyes. "Then how does it work?" I asked. "Tell me, Alice. I'll do anything."

Alice shook her head, shuffling in place on her skates. "I don't know," she said. "But proposing to me isn't magically gonna make all our problems go away."

For a second there I had actually been worried. But as soon as she mentioned problems, I knew she was just being silly. A spark of anger ignited in my chest and my voice came out a little forceful.

"What problems, Alice?" I said. "We don't have problems. The only problem we have—"

But at this point the crowd was upset at missing the drama. One woman in the audience cupped her mouth like a megaphone and called out:

"We can't hear!"

There was a round of chuckles at this and someone else yelled out:

"Give her a microphone!"

A cheer of agreement when up and I blushed. This was sooo not going to plan. Why couldn't Alice just fall into my arms and weep with happiness like in a movie?

Leah grinned and handed me her corner of the banner. "Hold on a sec, I'll be right back." Then she skated over to the announce booth. Jasper handed her a microphone before she could even ask for one and the crowd clapped as Leah skated back to me.

My mouth fell open in disbelief, the butterflies in my stomach flying into an outright panic. I had wanted the proposal to be as public as possible so that she could see how comfortable I was with the new me, but a speech? I was afraid of public speaking way before I ever became gay.

But then I looked at Alice and saw that a little smile had appeared on her face. She always did love to see me embarrassed.

Leah handed me the microphone and took back the banner. Jess giggled and patted my back. The crowd was still clapping and I lifted the microphone to my mouth.

"Are you serious?"

My dazed voice echoed among the speakers and a loud cheer of encouragement went up. Alice was biting her lip to keep from smiling wider, and if it wasn't for that little glimmer of smile, I really doubt I would've been brave enough.

But I had to be. Alice was right here in front of me and it was now or never. This was the moment. It was time to win her back or forever lose her, so I cleared my throat and licked my dry lips.

"Okay," I said. "Um…"

The crowd fell silent. I had no idea how to begin, but I looked at Alice's face, at her huge dark eyes, and I saw the hope in them, and suddenly I was speaking.

"Alice," I said. "It's pretty obvious what I'm trying to ask you. And I know you've invented all these reasons in your head why it'll never work, but that's why I'm here. To show you it will. You talk about the problems we had, but the only problem we ever had was the fact you never had faith in me. And maybe you were right. In the beginning. It was hard for me to come to terms with all this."

I shook my head as I recalled my early behavior and then I remembered I was talking to an audience. I felt they could use some context, so I looked across the bleachers and gestured with a hand feebly.

"I was straight before I met Alice," I explained over the PA system. "It was kind of a shock and maybe I had a bit of denial. But none of that matters, because no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to fool myself…I couldn't fight it."

Tears had come into my eyes and into my voice, and I turned to Alice. Her eyes had gone wet too, and when I blinked I felt two tears fall.

"Because I love you, Alice," I said into the microphone, making sure everybody could hear. "And I know you feel the same way. No matter how many reasons you invent in your head why this will never work, you'll always know the truth in your heart. We're meant to be together."

She blinked rapidly to keep from crying. I went to take her hand, but she skated backward a couple inches, shaking her head.

"Bella," she said. "You can't just…"

I didn't know what she was going to say, but it didn't matter. Her resistance only strengthened my resolve, and I took her hand anyway. She tried to tug it back, but it was a very feeble tug. The wristguard covered most of her palm, but I could feel her fingers and the electricity flowing through them.

"Yes, Alice, I can," I said. "Because after all this, I think I deserve your faith. I think I've earned it. Maybe I was slow in coming to terms with it, but look how far I've come. I'm holding your hand in front of an arena full of people. I'm proclaiming my love for you in front of thousands of strangers. You don't have to worry about me, Alice. I love you more than I've ever imagined loving anyone. And that's never going to change."

Alice sniffed and blinked some more. Tears dropped onto her cheeks and left black trails of makeup. I could see the hope and the love swimming in her eyes and right then I knew I had her. A smile bloomed across my own tearstained face and I let go of her hand to reach into my hoody for the jewelry box.

"Now, I'm going to ask you a question," I said into the microphone. "And I really want you to say yes. So, please."

Slowly, I sank down to one knee. It was overkill perhaps, but I was lost in the moment. So I sank down to one knee in front of this arena full of people and I lifted the lid of the jewelry box and offered it up to the woman I loved. It was a half carat whitegold engagement ring and she almost broke down at the sight of it.

"Mary Alice Brandon," I said. "I love you with all my heart and I never want to be without you. Will you marry me?"

She nodded and sobbed and said:

"Yes. Yes, I—"

But she didn't have a microphone and certain members of the audience didn't want to miss the moment.

"We can't hear!" someone called.

"Give her the mic!" called another.

Laughter from the audience. Alice blubbered a little giggle and I handed up the microphone. Jess and Leah were still holding the banner above me, and I heard Jess sniff. Alice held the microphone in both hands like a bouquet and lifted it to her mouth. I gazed up at her wholeheartedly from one knee and she took a deep breath.

"Yes, Bella," she said. "I will marry you."

A wave of sublime happiness washed over me. The crowd broke into applause. I rose to my feet and wrapped my arms around my fiancée. Alice dropped the microphone to hug me back. The microphone clattered on the rink and rolled away with a whine of feedback.

"Well, there you have it, sports fans," Jasper announced over the PA system from the announce booth. "True love triumphs after all. Okay, guys, give em some music."

The band resumed their romantic ballad. I felt the music wash over me and I felt Alice's warmth and I could feel her arms around me. Both derby teams were lined up and clapping and cheering. I closed my eyes and rested my head against Alice, but the moment of peace only lasted a second.

"Put the ring on her," Jess urged. "Ring, ring, ring!"

I was still clutching the jewelry box in my hand and slowly I let go of Alice. We were wearing identically radiant grins. She wiped the tears from her eyes with her fingertips, as if to compose herself for another important moment, and I took the ring out of the cushion. She gave me her hand and I took it, but I could already see a problem. Her wristguard. I tried to put the ring on anyway, but it would barely go past her fingernail, and after a few tries of pushing it at her finger we both broke down into giggles and gave up.

"I'll put it on tonight," I told her, and grabbed her into another hug, holding her tight and swaying her gently.

There was still one more thing we had to do, but I so was lost in the simple joy of having my girlfriend back that it had totally slipped my mind. But the audience knew what was missing, and soon they were chanting it throughout the arena.

"Kiss Her!"

"Kiss Her!"

"Kiss Her!"

Alice and I broke the hug and looked about. Jess had her cellphone out and she was getting the whole thing on video. Leah looked sad, but happy at the same time. The crowd kept chanting and slowly Alice and I turned to face each other. She had her hands at my waist and she gave me a pretty smile from underneath her derby helmet. Black trails down her cheeks like an old world actress or a cute little guerilla fighter. I smiled back, cupped her face with my hand, and pressed my lips to hers.

The audience roared in approval and I deepened the kiss in front of everyone with the music playing and my heart swelling in my chest. Alice drifted on her skates and tightened her arms around me. I had wanted it to be a perfect moment, and it was.

It really was.

—

Alice and I didn't go out to celebrate that night. Leah and Jess tried to convince us to have a few drinks and at least stay to midnight, but it had been hard enough to even sit through the second half of the bout. Alice's team had won, and Alice had been like a demon out there after the proposal. Grinning and hipchecking girls into the first row. She glanced at me every time she passed on the track and every time it made my heart jump.

Jess was going to get a ride with Leah, so Alice and I took my car back to my place. The only stop we made was to pick up a bottle of champagne.

Alice was still clad in her derby gear when we arrived at my apartment. We were so eager to be together she hadn't even showered at the arena. She just took of her skates and put on her boots. We went directly into the bathroom, already connected in a kiss, and I began to help her out of her elbow and knee pads. Soon they were scattered on the bathroom floor and she was pulling off my hoody. When she had it off, she began lifting my top. She broke the kiss to pull it over my head and paused when she saw the tattoo on my stomach.

"What's this?" she asked, a smile flittering onto her mouth.

I was wearing only my bra and my body was humming from how much I wanted her. She was touching my waist near the tattoo and I held her hand there.

"That's the other surprise," I said. "I got it for you. A permanent reminder of how you make me feel."

Her fingers triggered a fluttery feeling in my stomach, as if her touch bought the tattoo to life. She blinked at it and lifted her eyes to mine. "Oh baby," she said. "I'm so sorry. I feel like such a…"

I touched her lips with a fingertip. Tonight wasn't the night to go back and forth apologizing and blaming each other. Tonight was the night when everything was perfect.

"It's okay," I said. "We were both idiots. Do you like it?"

She nodded and kissed me. "I love it," she said, and kissed me again. "And I love _you_." Another kiss. "I love you so much." More kissing. "So much…"

I moaned and returned the kiss. I could feel her love glowing in my body, but no matter how much she loved me, it would never be as much as I loved her. And with that thought, I yanked down her shorts and grabbed her butt.

There was probably a bit of lust mingled in the love.

Eventually we got naked and got into the shower where we giggled and flirted and sponged each other clean. It was great foreplay and any activity that allowed me to enjoy Alice's body with the lights on was a win in my book.

By the time we were dried off we were madly horny. I practically chased her pretty little ass into bed and together we dove under the covers and proceeded to wrap ourselves around each other. Legs, arms, tongues. We stroked each other and rubbed our bodies together until we were almost melting, and then we finally took turns going down. Then we did it all over again. We made love until well past midnight and even though it was New Year's Eve, neither of us noticed the time.

Finally it was time for a break. I had turned the heat on in the apartment, but we put some clothes on as well, just tops and some shorts. I went and got the champagne from the fridge and bought it back into the bedroom with two glasses. Alice was sitting in the bed with a bright smile on her face and she watched me as I poured the glasses full at the bedside table. According to the alarm clock it was past one AM.

Holding a glass in each hand, I crawled onto the bed and handed one of them to Alice. She was still smiling and now she giggled at something.

"Um, baby?" she said. "I don't mean to sound superficial, but before we drink…do you think I could get the ring?"

I almost slapped my head. What a fucking idiot I am.

"Shit," I said, already scrabbling off the bed. "Sorry. I can't believe I forgot."

I ran and got the ring from the bathroom, taking the champagne glass with me like an Olympic torch. The ring was in the pocket of my hoody. I bought it back to the bed and climbed in. Alice giggled again and offered her hand, twinkling her fingers girlishly.

"Here," I said, slipping it on. "It's nothing special. I didn't have a lot of time to shop around. We can take it back and get something else if you—"

She cut me off with a kiss. We held the kiss for a moment, champagne glasses aloft. Then she pulled back and cupped my face with her ring hand and smiled.

"It's perfect, baby," she said. "Just like you."

I blushed. She gave my cheek a caress and then she giggled and snatched her hand back so that she could admire the ring. Her smile brightened as she gazed at the tiny diamond on her finger and I felt a glow in my chest. I really hoped she liked it. It cost a fucking fortune.

"Thanks," I said. "Do you want to make a toast?"

She lifted her eyes from the ring, her smile tilting into a smirk. "Why don't you?" she suggested. "You seem to have a knack for giving speeches lately."

I blushed and glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

"Well, it's past midnight," I said. "Why don't we make a New Year's resolution?"

The idea seemed to please her. "Okay."

I nodded and decided to go first. There were all kinds of resolutions I could've made, but in the end, all I truly wanted to do was love Alice. And lately, I really loved saying that out loud.

"Well," I said, leaning towards her and lowering my voice. "My resolution is pretty simple. I'm gonna be the best girlfriend, fiancée, and wife that you could ever imagine."

I kissed her and she giggled into the kiss. I tried to keep kissing her, but she was smiling too much.

"Do you want to know my resolution?" she asked.

"Mmm?" I murmured into her lips.

But she didn't answer right away, so I sat back to give her space. She was still smiling but the smile had a hint of sadness or regret. She looked at the rumbled sheets for a moment and then she giggled once and looked at me.

"My resolution's pretty simple too," she said. "I'm going to stop pretending that I actually have control over my feelings. Because you were right, baby. All I wanted to do was protect myself, but in the end…" She shook her head, recalling the breakup with little tears forming in her eyes. "In the end, all I did was hurt us both." She took a breath and forced a smile back onto her face. Then she looked at me and the smile became less forced. "I can't control how much I love you, baby," she said. "And from now on, I'm going to stop pretending."

A wet giggle escaped her and she wiped her eyes. I was almost crying too. That was so beautiful. I had already known that right from the beginning she was guarded against falling for me too hard, but until now, I had no idea how similar we were. We had both fought against these feelings we had for each other, each with our own misguided reasons, but in the end it didn't matter. Because those feelings were stronger than either of us alone or both of us combined, and those feelings were forever.

"I love you, Alice," I said, blinking back tears.

She sniffed and gave in to the happiness. "I love you too, baby."

Then we touched our glasses together and sipped. We kept our eyes locked and we only took one sip, because words didn't really say it and we both really wanted to show it. Smiling, she took the glass out of my hand and leaned past me and set them both on the bedside table.

"Now come here," she whispered, and pushed me gently against the bed. "This is the beginning of the rest of our lives together. Let's start it properly…"

My eyes fell shut as her lips descended over mine. It was hard to believe I had ever resisted something so wonderful, so perfect. I let my mouth fall open and she moaned as she deepened the kiss. The butterflies were fluttering in my tummy, but they weren't panicking anymore.

They were just happy.

—


End file.
